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L  I  B  R  A^  R  Y 


Theological    Seminary 

PRINCETON,     N.    J. 


BV    4921     .B77 

Burr,  E.  F.  1818-1907. 

Toward  the  strait  gate 


lO 


m 


V-*:/'-' 


TOWARD  THE  STRAIT  GATE-. 


OR, 


PARISH   CHRISTIANITY 


FOR  THE   UNCONVERTED. 


REV.  E.  F.  BURR,  D.  D., 

AUTHOR   OF  "  ECCE   CCELUM,"   "  PATER    MUNDI,"    "  AD    FIDEM,"    ETC.  ;    AND 

LECTURER   ON    THE   SCIENTIFIC   EVIDENCES   OF   RELIGION 

IN    AMHERST   COLLEGE. 


•'  Then  said  Evangelist,  pointing  with  his  finger  over  a  very  wide  field,  Do 
you  see  yonder  Wicket  Gate  ?  " 

"  Strive  to  enter  in  at  the  Strait  Gate." 


BOSTON: 

LOCKWOOD,  BROOKS,  AND    COMPANY, 

381  Washingto'n  Street. 

1875. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

LocKwooD,  Brooks,  and  Company, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


RIVERSIDE,    CAMBRIDGE  : 

STEREOTYPED     AND     PRINTED      BY 

H.    O.    HOUGHTON    AND   COMPANY. 


f  PBiiiearoiT 


PREFACE. 


THE  present  volume  is  the  natural  successor 
to  Aii  Fidem.  It  views  the  reader  as  having 
been  brought  to  accept  the  Bible  as  a  Divine 
message,  and  seeks  to  conduct  him  from  this 
point,  step  by  step,  to  a  Scriptural  conversion. 

There  are  two  ways  of  doing  this.  One  as- 
sumes the  man  to  be  quite  ignorant  of  the  leading 
Bible-truths  looking  toward  conversion,  and  pro- 
ceeds to  set  them  forth  in  their  proper  logical 
order  as  one  would  teach  the  principles  of  a 
science  to  a  beginner  —  carefully  keeping  from 
using  any  truth  till  it  has  been  formally  expounded 
in  its  place.  The  other  assumes  a  general  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Bible  which  is  intellectually 
accepted  ;  and  so,  while  presenting  the  various 
topics  in  their  natural  order,  very  much  as  is 
done  by  the  other  method,  does  not  hesitate  to 
use  at  any  point  whatever  commonly  received 
truth  may  there  seem  of  service. 

The  latter  way  is  the  one  used  in  this  work. 
It  has  the  advantage  of  being  conformed  to  the 


iv  PREFACE. 

actual  state  of  most  unconverted  persons  in  our 
parishes.  They  are  far  from  being  like  one  begin- 
ning for  the  first  time  to  study  a  science.  They 
not  only  accept  the  Bible  as  true,  but  they  are  also 
familiar  with  the  main  points  of  its  teaching.  The 
immortality  of  the  soul,  a  future  state  of  rewards 
and  punishments,  the  general  nature  of  the  Divine 
law,  the  guilt  and  condemnation  of  men,  a  way  of 
pardon  through  Christ,  a  new  character  and  life 
by  Divine  power  —  all  such  truths  they  have  read 
and  heard  about,  almost  daily,  from  childhood, 
and  admit  quite  as  distinctly  as  they  do  the 
authority  of  the  Bible  itself.  They  need  to  have 
them  emphasized,  made  vivid  by  illustrations, 
brought  to  bear  on  the  mind  in  their  proper  order 
and  relations  —  but  they  do  not  need  to  have  them 
made  knozvn.  To  deal  with  such  persons  as  if 
they  were  bare  of  all  Scriptural  knowledge,  is  to 
throw  a  certain  air  of  unreality  and  misapplication 
over  the  whole  dealing.  It  also  unnecessarily 
narrows  at  any  given  point  the  range  -for  cogent 
expostulation.  The  work  to  be  done  is  chiefly 
one  oi persuading — of  persuading  men  to  a  vastly 
important  and  vastly  resisted  step  — and  for  doing 
this,  one  can  hardly  have  too  wide  scope  for  ar- 
gument and  appeal. 
Lyme,  Coxx. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.  Attend 3 

II.  God  speaks 21 

III.  His  Right  to  attend  to  our  Affairs  .        .  43 

IV.  Men  as  His  Subjects 63 

V.  His  Service  the  best 81 

VI.  His  Great  Law 97 

VII.  This  Law  broken 109 

VIII.  Yet  most  reasonable 127 

IX.  Consequent  Guilt '45 

X.  The  Divine  Balance i59 

XI.  Divine  Economy  of  Rei'risals         .        .        .173 

XII.  The  Gloomy  Path 187 

XIII.  Its  Terrible  End 203 

XIV.  Vain  Cities  of  Refuge 217 

XV.  Jesus  the  Substitute 233 

XVI.  The  Majesties  OF  the  Cross         .        .        -.251 
XVII.  Reconciliation  the  first  thing      .        .        .265 
XVIII.  Justification  by  Faith  alone      .        .        .283 
XIX.  Faith  expressing  itself  in  the  great  De- 
cision          295 

XX.  The  Two  Goals 309 

XXI.  Whither  Bound  ? 323 

XXII.  A  Pressing  Call 34i 

XXIII.  What  will  he  do.? 359 

XXIV.  Obstacles 375 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

XXV.  Excuses 387 

XXVI.  Indirections    .......      403 

XXVII.  The  Demon  of  Delay 415 

XXVIII.  Consolidation  of  Sinful  Character         .      431 

XXIX.  No  Sacrifice  too  great  for  Religion  .        .  447 

XXX.  Where  do  I  expect  to  spend  my  Eternity  ?  461 

XXXI.  A  sure  Madness 477 

XXXII.  A  Successful  Appeal 495 

XXXIII.  Congratulations  and  Thanksgivings    .        .  509 


ATTEND. 


PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 


ATTEND. 

/^^UR  first  business  with  truth  is  to  ^now  it  as 
^-^  such. 

We  are  ever  learning.  Not  a  day  passes  with- 
out some  new  fact  or  principle  dawning  upon  us. 
Perhaps  it  is  a  fact  of  science,  or  a  fact  of  history, 
or  a  principle  of  religion.  It  is  a  novelty  —  we 
never  saw  it  before.  It  looks  to  us  as  fresh  as 
though  it  had  just  been  created,  or  fished  up  all 
dripping  with  crystal  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea 
where  it  has  been  silently  and  invisibly  lying  ever 
since  the  sea  was.  Very  likely  it  has  been  ban- 
died about  among  men  for  thousands  of  years  — 
buffeted  and  embraced,  enthroned  and  dethroned, 
battled  and  diplomatized,  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration in  many  countries  and  languages  —  and 
yet  it  seems  to  our  discovering  eyes  a  freshly 
made  Adam  ;  his  dewy  cheek  eloquent  with  the 


4  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

pure  blood  just  making  its  first  marvelous  cir- 
cuit, and  his  liquid  eye  beaming  soft  astonishment 
on  a  world  almost  as  new  as  himself. 

And  now  that  the  stranger  truth  has  at  last 
come  fairly  into  our  possession,  and  we  under- 
stand its  meaning  and  reality  —  what  shall  we  do 
with  it  ?  Here  it  is  (the  scientific  truth,  the  busi- 
ness truth,  the  truth  historic,  or  the  truth  relig- 
ious) standing  out  in  the  bold  relief  of  a  first  sight 

—  tell  us  what  we  shall  do  with  it.  "  Use  it,  of 
course  :  and  if  no  opportunity  for  doing  so  exists 
just  now,  hold  the  truth  fast  till  an  opportunity 
shall  come.  Fix  it  in  your  memory,  lay  it  up 
against  the  time  of  need  in  some  secure  and  con- 
venient nook  of  your  mind,  make  sure  of  it  by  the 
chains  and  rivets  of  associated  thought,  and  so 
have  it  all  ready  to  turn  to  account  when  circum- 
stances call  for  it."  Good  counsel  in  the  main. 
Still  no  small  limitation  needs  to  be  made.  All 
truth  cannot  be  used.     There  are  hurtful  truths 

—  low,  corrupting  truths,  as  well  as  such  as  are 
high,  pure,  and  salutary.  There  are  facts,  as 
really  such  as  any  rocks  that  you  see,  which  it 
were  better  not  to  know,  or  which,  unfortunately 
having  known,  you  had  better  forget  as  soon  as 
possible.      Hastily   put    them    away   from    your 


ATTEND.  5 

thoughts  —  they  are  so  much  infection.  Burn 
them  out  from  the  tablets  of  your  memory  as  soon 
and  as  thoroughly  as  you  can  —  they  are  so  much 
eating  poison,  and  have  eaten  out  to  a  mere  echo- 
ing shell  the  promising  heart  of  many  a  man. 
Parents  well  know  that  they  have  almost  as  much 
occasion  to  guard  their  children  against  certain 
kinds  of  knowledge  as  they  have  to  secure  to 
them  certain  other  kinds  — "  lest  they  become 
wise  to  do  evil  and  to  do  good  have  no  knowl- 
edge." 

Besides  truths  which  are  positively  harmful, 
there  are  others  of  so  small  or  doubtful  value  that 
it  is  not  worth  our  while  to  be  at  much  pains  to 
keep  them  in  the  memory.  I  might  spend  this 
whole  day  in  laying  down  sentence  after  sentence 
before  you,  each  of  which  you  would  grant  to  be 
true  and  yet  would  feel  to  be  such  trifling  truth 
as  deserves  neither  the  hearing  nor  the  speaking. 
The  world  is  full  of  books  which  are  true  enough, 
but  whose  truths  are  not  worth  the  printing ; 
much  less  the  time  and  pains  needed  to  fix  them 
firmly  in  the  memory.  As  the  eye  and  the  hand 
do  not  easily  keep  their  hold  of  very  small  ob- 
jects, so,  in  general,  no  truths  so  easily  escape  the 
grasp  of  the  memory  as  those  trifling  ones  which 


6  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

can  hardly  be  seen.  A  wise  man  who  has  mat- 
ters of  plain  moment  enough  to  occupy  him,  will 
let  these  dwarfish  and  microscopic  truths  take 
their  chance  of  being  remembered.  He  cannot 
afford,  with  so  many  great  interests  on  his  hands, 
to  guard  a  pin  as  if  it  were  a  principality.  If  it 
can  shift  for  itself,  and  so  manage  to  get  pre- 
served, very  well  :  but  if  not,  he  cannot  embark  a 
great  capital  of  time  and  pains  in  the  enterprise  of 
securing  a  small  benefit. 

For  there  are  such  things  as  great  truths  claim- 
'  ing  his  attention.  Facts  and  principles,  true  and 
solid  as  the  world  and  vastly  greater,  have  come 
to  his  knowledge ;  and  scarcely  any  degree  of 
pains  would  be  misplaced  in  the  effort  to  domes- 
ticate them  in  the  mind.  Should  he  labor  for 
this  till  he  is  weary,  till  he  is  exhausted,  till  he 
outdoes  all  other  laborers  and  seems  almost  him- 
self a  Providence,  still  so  important  are  the  truths 
of  which  I  speak,  so  great  and  constant  is  the  use 
to  which  they  may  be  put,  so  certain  is  it  that 
great  care  will  preserve  them  influentially  to  the 
mind  and  that  nothing  short  of  it  will,  that  he  is 
warranted  in  all  this  outlay.  I  speak  of  all  the 
fiindanicntal  religions  trutlis ;  but  especially  of 
certain  very  elementary  ones,  a  sense  of  which 


A  TTEND.  7 

lies  at  the  foundation  of  religion,  and  is  necessary 
to  secure  even  a  suitable  attention  to  the  subject. 
Our  mortality  as  bodies ;  our  immortality  as 
souls  ;  the  supreme  importance  of  religion  ;  our 
exposure  as  moral  beings  to  a  great  crowd  of  dan- 
gers ;  our  accountabihty  to  a  Divine  Being  — 
these  things  cannot  have  it  said  of  them  that  the 
sooner  they  are  forgotten  the  better.  Nor  can 
any  say  that  the  use  of  these  truths  is  so  doubtful 
or  so  slight  that  very  considerable  pains  to  keep 
them  before  the  mind  as  living  pictures  and 
forces  cannot  be  justified.  One  could  hardly  do 
too  much  for  this  purpose.  At  all  expense  hold 
fast  the  slippery  necessities.  With  reverential 
but  firm  hand  make  prisoners  of  the  angels  who 
have  come  to  see  you.  Set  sleepless  guards  at 
every  gate  of  your  mind  lest  they  escape.  In- 
sist steadily  on  their  going  with  you  wherever 
you  go,  and  on  their  staying  with  you  wherever 
you  stay.  Never  suffer  them,  or  at  least  their 
shadows,  out  of  your  sight.  At  last  turn  your 
prisoners  into  freely  abiding  and  naturalized  citi- 
zens, by  your  wise  devotion  and  sacred  policy, 
and  let  your  fortress  be  their  home.  Yet  watch 
and  stand  to  your  arms  still,  lest,  from  without,  a 
subtle  world,  or  a  subtler  Satan,  slyly  undo  your' 


8  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

gates  and  rob  you  of  your  new  friends.  What- 
ever pains  you  take  for  this  will  not  be  wasted. 
You  will  be  repaid  more  than  a  thousand  fold. 

Consider  our  mortality.  All  religions  make 
so  great  use  of  this  grave  fact  in  their  dealings 
with  men  —  far  more  than  is  made  in  any  other 
quarter  —  that  it  well  deserves  to  be  called  a 
religious  truth.  Now  this  truth,  my  friend,  is  one 
which  neither  you  nor  I  nor  any  other  person  can 
have  any  doubt  about.  Name  it,  and  all  our 
heads  at  once  sink  upon  our  bosoms.  Some  of 
us  would  be  glad  to  deny  it  if  we  could — oh,  that 
there  were  such  room  for  doubt  and  dispute  on 
this  matter  as  on  many  others  which  are  likely 
enough  but  still  not  quite  as  certain  as  the  math- 
ematics —  but,  as  it  is,  there  is  nothing  to  be 
said,  not  the  shadow  of  a  point  on  which  by  any 
ingenuity  we  can  manage  to  hang  an  objection 
however  small.  We  are  dying  beings.  The 
youngest  and  strongest  of  us,  with  the  oldest  and 
weakest,  are  all  going  one  way  —  the  way  to 
the  grave.  We  shall  see  a  few  more  suns  rise 
and  set,  perhaps  a  few  more  seasons  come  and 
go,  and  then  will  come  a  day  when  we  shall  be 
missing  from  the  places  where  men  have  been 
wont  to  see  us.      We  are   not  in  the  field,  nor 


A  TTEATD.  9 

in  the  workshop,  nor  in  the  store,  nor  in  the 
neighbor's  dwelHng  —  no,  not  even  in  our  own 
dwelling.  Let  him  who  seeks  us  go  from  room 
to  room  till  the  house  is  done,  and  not  a  glimpse 
will  he  get  of  us,  not  a  well-known  foot-fall  or 
tone  will  betray  our  presence  anywhere.  No, 
friend,  go  and  search  a  very  different  house,  the 
house  appointed  for  all  the  living.  Go  to  the 
parish  church-yard  and  under  a  little  mound 
of  earth  you  will  find  him  you  seek  —  all  cold 
and  voiceless,  and  yet  able  to  say  to  you, 
"What  I  am  now  that  you  must  be,  prepare  for 
death  and   follow  me." 

As  sure  a  fact  as  our  mortality  is,  it  is  not  one 
that  easily  lives  in  our  memories.  When  the 
mind  is  turned  to  it,  we  know  it  as  a  thing  not  to 
be  disputed  :  having  examples  and  dangers  of 
death  thickly  about  us,  the  unpleasant  idea  is 
often  suggested.  But  it  is  a  flying  visitor  — 
comes  and  is  away  again  without  folding  its 
wings.  So  it  is  with  most  people  ;  and,  on  trial, 
they  find  it  hard  to  have  it  otherwise.  Of 
course,  we  cannot  consciously  keep  death  always 
before  our  mind,  amid  the  great  variety  of  busi- 
ness and  cares  which  must  occupy  our  atten- 
tion.     But  there  is  such   a   thing  as  an  tmcon- 


lO  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

scions  jDresence  of  an  idea  —  a  presence  shaping 
our  conduct  every  moment  though  we  are  not 
distinctly  aware  of  the  fact.  When  we  have 
lost  a  friend  our  whole  lives  thenceforth  pro- 
ceed under  an  assumption  of  his  absence  from 
the  sphere  in  which  we  move  ;  though,  after 
some  years  have  passed,  we  are  seldom  con- 
scious of  having  a  distinct  picture  of  his  death 
before  us.  We  set  out  on  a  journey,  and 
through  its  whole  course,  however  long  it  may 
be,  our  steps  are  governed  by  a  certain  original 
plan  of  travel,  though,  most  of  the  time,  our 
minds  are  fully  occupied  with  the  various  scenes 
through  which  we  are  passing  and  make  no  dis- 
tinct account  of  that  plan.  So  we  may  uncon- 
sciously have  an  abiding  sense  that  we  are  dying 
beings.  And  it  is  this  abiding  sense,  consciously 
or  unconsciously  held,  of  which  I  speak  as 
something  seldom  possessed,  and  to  be  gained 
only  with  difficulty.  However  one  may  choose 
to  explain  it,  the  fact  is  certain  that  there  is 
a  mighty  and  almost  irresistible  tendency  in 
most  men  to  lose  sense  of  their  exposure  to 
death  at  any  moment.  We  grasp  and  resolve 
to  keep  it,  having  become  convinced  that  we 
must  so  number  our  days  as  to  apply  our  hearts 


A  TTEND.  1 1 

unto  wisdom  :  when  lo,  we  have  scarcely  taken 
a  turn  among  our  friends  or  our  business,  be- 
fore our  minds  are  emptied  of  their  just  views, 
and  we  are  found  hving  just  as  if  we  are  to  Kve 
here  forever.  God  grant  that  this  state  of  things 
may  not  continue  ! 

Near  our  mortality,  and  shedding  awful  lights 
upon  it,  stands  the  majestic  fact  of  our  immor- 
tality. The  body  dies  soon,  the  soul  lives  always. 
Amid  all  the  changes  to  take  place  in  our  histo- 
ries we  shall  never  cease  to  be  thinking,  con- 
scious beings  —  stretching  away,  away,  on  an 
unending  journey.  This  truth  is  about  as  com- 
monly accepted  in  Christian  communities  as  is 
the  fact  of  bodily  death.  "  Yes,"  says  our  ortho- 
doxy, and  even  our  natural  religion,  "  it  is  even 
so.  I  am  not  a  brute,  going  down  after  a  few 
days  to  lose  myself  in  the  ground,  a  mere  sense- 
less lump  of  clay  ;  but,  with  these  high  aspira- 
tions and  moral  faculties  and  capacities  of  in- 
definite improvement  fermenting  within  me,  I 
am  doubtless  launched  forth  on  that  oceanic 
mystery,  an  eternal  voyage."  Since  the  time 
this  idea  first  came  to  you,  you  have  had  many 
returns  of  it.  People  living  in  a  land  of  Bibles 
and    Christian    preaching    hear    it    knocking    at 


12  PARISH  CHRfSTTANITY. 

their  doors  every  sabbath,  if  not  every  day. 
But  it  does  not  enter  —  or,  entering,  it  does  not 
stay.  Not  one  person  in  a  hundred  has  an  abid- 
ing sense  of  the  fact  that  his  true,  conscious,  ex- 
istence will  never,  never  end  —  outlasting  the 
toughest  empires  ;  outlasting  Hegiras  and  Chris- 
tian Eras  and  historic  stretches  of  every  name  ; 
outlasting  even  the  long  drawn  periods  of  Ge- 
ology and  those  which  unwind  their  misty  and 
almost  incredible  coils  up  amid  the  cold  glitter  of 
nebular  astronomy.  Is  not  this  a  true  charge .'' 
True  sadly  of  you  f  And  if  you  have  tried  to 
make  the  sense  of  your  personal  immortality  a 
part  of  the  standing  furniture  of  your  mind,  you 
will  bear  me  witness  that  you  have  found  it  no 
small  thing  you  have  undertaken.  With  what 
surprising  ease  the  mind  slips  away  from  its 
task  !  In  some  moment  of  clear,  perhaps  ter- 
rified, vision,  you  resolved  that  you  would  no 
longer  live  as  you  had  done,  but  would,  with 
might  and  main,  with  watchfulness  and  prayer- 
fulness,  keep  the  fact  of  your  deathless  destiny 
framed  and  hung  up  conspicuously  in  the  cham- 
bers of  imagery,  an  ever  pleading  picture  in 
behalf  of  a  holy  life  ;  but  alas,  you  had  scarcely 
taken  a  turn  anion  o;  the    cares   and  vanities  of 


A  TTEND.  1 3 

the  outside  world  before  the  picture  was  gone 
into  mist,  and  your  horizon,  instead  of  em- 
bracing in  clear  sweep  the  sublime  fields  of  an 
endless  life,  narrowed  down  to  that  poor  pittance 
of  a  circle  which  bounds  to-day.  In  general,  it 
is  only  by  great  and  long  effort  that  men  come 
to  have  an  abiding  sense  of  their  immortality. 
By  some  means,  and  by  all  means,  may  Heaven 
grant  this  sense  to  each  of  us  ! 

Is  not  religion  the  chief  thing  ?  The  culture 
and  elevation  of  our  spiritual  natures,  a  high- 
minded  following  of  principle  and  conscience,  a 
resurrection  from  depths  of  sin  to  glorious  hights 
of  virtue  —  has  anything  equal  claims  on  our 
interest  and  our  efforts  .■'  I  listen.  From  east 
to  west,  from  hight  to  depth,  there  comes  not 
from  reasonable  beings  a  single  murmur  of  denial 
—  especially  from  such  as  have  their  eyes  open 
on  the  twin  facts  of  our  mortality  and  our  im- 
mortality. Yes,  religion,  trne  religion,  is  the 
supreme  thing  for  men.  Down  at  the  bottom  of 
our  hearts  we  all  know  it.  Nothing  that  men 
bargain  for,  and  pine  for,  and  die  for ;  nothing 
for  sake  of  which  men  vex  earth  and  lose  heaven, 
is  worth  mentioning  in  view  of  a  pure  heart  and 
a  grandly  righteous  life.     Often,  very  often,  this 


14  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

truth  comes  to  those  of  us  who  are  familiar  with 
Bibles  and  churches  :  but,  my  friend,  do  I  err  in 
saying  that  in  few  of  us  is  this  confessed  truth 
thoroughly  at  home  ?  It  is  a  visitor,  a  guest,  a 
very  frequent  guest  it  may  be,  but  after  all  oily 
a  guest  —  staying  a  little  while  in  our  best  rooms 
and  then  going  away.  Oh  that  this  truth  which 
visits  us  at  intervals  could  be  made  to  take  up 
its  abode  with  us  !  But,  if  our  wishes  are  met 
we  must  have  something  more  solid  and  costly 
than  wishes.  We  must  have  great  painstaking. 
The  soul  must  gird  itself,  and  bare  its  arms,  and 
work.  Perhaps  you  are  able  to  give  testimony 
on  this  point,  and  can  say  that,  in  some  moment 
of  clear  vision,  when  you  saw  with  fearful  dis- 
tinctness that  all  the  objects  pursued  by  men  are 
mere  dross  compared  with  religion,  you  resolved 
that  the  great  truth  should  never  again  be  lost 
sight  of,  and  set  yourself  to  bind  it  to  your  im- 
agination and  memory  with  seven  green  withes : 
but,  alas,  you  had  scarcely  shaken  hands  with 
your  companions  and  your  business,  before  your 
Samson  was  up  and  away  as  free  as  ever,  and  you 
were  joining  the  rest  of  men  in  the  hue  and  cry 
after  bubbles  as  zealously  as  of  old.  So  hard  is 
the  task  before  us.     Alas  !  may  Heaven  help  us 


ATTEND.  15 

to  hold  the  guest  which  Nature  seems  to  refuse 
us  but  which  we  cannot  do  without ! 

Let  me  tell  a  thoughtful  man,  with  his  eyes 
open  on  the  wonders  of  earth  and  sky,  that  Nat- 
ure has  an  infinite  personal  Author  to  whom  he 
is  responsible,  and  he  will  not  think  of  saying  me 
nay.  Let  me  tell  any  man,  whether  thoughtful  or 
not,  that  every  human  soul  is  beset  with  crowds 
of  moral  dangers,  and  he  will  confess,  "  I  cannot 
deny  what  you  say  ;  it  is  matter  of  plain  observa- 
tion and  experience.  Strong  evil  tendencies  and 
passions  are  within  me.  From  without  come 
temptations  almost  as  thickly  as  falling  leaves  of 
autumn  woods.  Thousands  stand  ready  to  mis- 
lead both  my  doctrine  and  my  practice.  Society 
is  cloudy  with  bad  breath  of  bad  lives.  The 
whole  air  is  poisoned  by  evil  example  —  burdened 
with  words  that  ought  not  to  be  spoken,  and  fetid 
with  deeds  that  ought  not  to  be  done.  Many  are 
weak  and  weakening.  Many  stumble  and  fall. 
Many  are  already  ruined,  and  many  are  on  the 
way.  It  is  true  we  are  beset.  I  see  and  feel  that 
there  is  a  tremendous  drag  downward  on  every 
man  who  mixes  with  this  downward-going  world  ; 
and  when  you  compare  this  to  the  mighty  yet 
noiseless  energy  of  gravitation,  which  may  indeed 


1 6  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

be  overcome  but  which  so  steadily  goes  to  sink 
everything  on  the  earth  to  the  lowest  possible 
point,  I  have  not  a  word  to  say  against  the  justice 
of  the  comparison."  You  assent  to  such  words. 
You  cannot  but  do  it  —  so  plain  are  the  facts. 
But  have  you  an  abiding  sense  that  not  a  day 
passes  without  finding  and  leaving  you  in  the 
presence  of  a  God  to  whom  you  must  give  ac- 
count }  Does  it  habitually  seem  to  you  that  you 
■are  like  David,  hunted  from  cave  to  cave  by  a 
Saul  who  skirts  one  side  of  the  mountain  while 
his  quarry  is  skirting  the  other  —  or  like  Xeno- 
phon  with  his  ten  thousand  in  their  wonderful  re- 
treat through  a  rallied  empire  of  enemies  .-'  By  no 
means.  You  live  in  a  too  loose  and  indifferent 
sort  of  way.  No  one  would  suppose  such  light, 
trifling,  bubble-hunting  person  to  be  laboring  un- 
der a  sense  of  heavy  peril.  We  do  not  see  it  in 
your  face,  nor  in  your  words,  nor  in  your  actions. 
And  if  we  could  come  at  your  heart  we  should 
not  see  it  there.  The  serious,  collected,  wary 
deportment  of  one  alive  to  the  fact  of  perilous 
surroundings,  is,  most  of  the  time,  quite  wanting. 
No  one  need  tell  me  that  such  a  free  and  easy 
liver,  with  his  smooth  brow  and  careless  ways, 
feels  that  he  is  being  shot  at  by  a  thousand  arch- 


ATTEND.  17 

ers.  I  know  better.  I  know  the  signs  of  a  fearful 
and  cautious  man  too  well  for  that.  Where  is  his 
helm    or  shield  .''     Where  his  posture  of  fence  .<• 

A  whole  family  abroad  !  Father,  mother,  chil- 
dren, in  holiday  attire,  walking  leisurely  on  the 
street,  laughing,  chatting,  jesting,  idling  hither 
and  thither,  looking  in  at  this  show  window,  read- 
ing that  play  bill,  parleying  at  yon  huckster's 
stall  —  enjoying  the  blessed  sunshine  and  seeing 
what  may  be  seen.  Have  these  promenaders 
well  dined?  Do  they  take  prudent  and  scanty 
breath }  Are  they  carrying  about  with  them 
some  grand  catholicon,  or  at  least  some  disinfect- 
ing essences .''  Nothing  of  the  sort.  Surely 
these  people  have  never  heard,  or  for  the  time 
being  are  forgetting,  that  this  is  an  infected  dis- 
trict of  the  city  and  that  every  breath  of  the  air 
is  loaded  with  pestilence  !  How  else  would  they 
appear  and  do  as  they  do  .''  So  I  ask  myself  how 
it  can  be  that  one  who  is  fairly  awake  to  the 
fact  of  dreadful  moral  malarias  and  deaths  poi- 
soning his  whole  atmosphere,  should  carry  him- 
self as  carelessly  as  you  do.  You  are  not 
awake.  What  you  occasionally  see  clearly,  and 
perhaps  loudly  confess,  is  for  the  most  part  out 
of  sight.     Sin,  Satan,  temptations,  errors,  corrup- 


1 8  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

tions,  responsibilities  —  soul  breathed  pestilently 
against  by  every  wind  that  blows  across  this  cor- 
rupt world  —  all  are  matters  of  knowledge,  and 
yet  a  knowledge  so  unattended  to  as  to  be  prac- 
tically no  knowledge  at  all  !  Awake,  careless 
one !  People  circumstanced  as  you  are  have  no 
right  to  live  as  if  without  enemies  and  dangers. 
Awake,  I  say  :  and,  if  you  find  the  drowsy  air  of 
the  enchanted  ground  too  strong  for  you,  call 
for  help  on  "  Him  who  quickeneth  all  things." 
Do  it  soon,  or  you  may  rue  your  supineness  in  a 
waking  that  will  be  all  too  late. 

Of  course  there  are  many  other  truths  bearing 
on  religion  which,  though  well  known,  easily  slip 
away  and  are  almost  always  out  of  sight.  But 
I  have  called  attention  to  these  elementary  ones, 
belonging  to  natural  religion,  because,  if  the 
mind  will  keep  itself  fairly  awake  to  these,  it  will 
be  sure  to  do  justice  to  the  whole  subject  of  re- 
ligion. So,  let  me  urge  you  to  rouse  yourself  to 
an  abiding  sense  of  the  acknowledged  facts  that 
we  are  dying  beings,  that  our  souls  will  neverthe- 
less live  forever,  that  we  are  responsible  for  our 
characters  and  conduct  to  an  Infinite  Being,  that 
religion  is  the  supreme  thing,  and  that  we  are 
in  the  midst  of  great  moral  dangers.     Such  truths 


ATTEND.  19 

are  too  great  to  be  neglected.  Do  not  allow  them 
to  be  buried  under  heaps  of  trifles.  Call  them  up 
from  the  horizon  to  which  they  have  retreated. 
Drag  them  out  of  the  mists  which  give  them  such 
vague  and  feeble  outline.  Place  them  just  under 
your  eyes,  and  turn  all  possible  light  on  them. 
Now  see  how  they  shine  !  Lo,  what  important 
truths  they  are  !  '  Lay  fast  hold  of  these  instruc- 
tions.' Grasp  them  as  valiant  and  determined 
men  grasp  the  banner  which  foes  are  trying  to 
wrest  from  them.  Treat  them  as  in  a  time  of  war 
a  garrison  treats  the  flag  under  which  the  fortress 
is  held.  Is  it  left  in  some  dark  corner,  and  only 
brought  out  now  and  then  when  some,  chance  has 
called  attention  to  it }  On  a  flag-staff  sunk  deep 
in  a  stony  socket  and  rising  high  in  air  where  all 
can  see  it,  behold  the  national  emblem  !  And 
there  sways  out  the  great  pictured  sheet,  day  and 
night,  summer  and  winter,  saluting  all  winds  and 
asserting  the  country  in  all  eyes.  The  soldier 
sees  it  as  he  first  goes  forth  in  the  morning.  It 
remains  in  his  sight  all  the  day  as  he  drills,  and 
watches,  and  battles.  And  when  the  day  closes 
he  catches  the  last  beam  from  its  illuminated 
field,  is  lulled  to  rest  by  its  flap  and  rustle,  and 
ihen  sees  it  wave  and  triumph  in  his  dreams. 


20  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

There  are  other  standards  than  those  of  war. 
Such  are  the  standard  truths  we  have  just  been 
considering.  Keep  them  ever  conspicuously  un- 
furled in  your  presence.  They  will  prepare  the 
way  of  the  Lord.  They  will  bespeak  your  at- 
tention loudly  to  the  matter  of  personal  religion, 
and  to  that  Divine  Message  that  seeks  to  lead 
you  to  it.  For,  the  Mighty  God,  even  the  Lord, 
has  spoken,  and  called  the  earth  from  the  rising 
of  the  stui  ujito  the  going  down  thereof. 


II. 

GOD   SPEAKS. 


II. 

GOD   SPEAKS.    • 

TOEHOLD  a  Being,  collossal  beyond  all  fabled 
■'-^  stature,  standing  on  the  circle  of  the  earth 
and  calling  to  its  inhabitants  in  tones  loud 
enough  to  reach  every  ear  around  the  mighty  con- 
vexity of  its  surface ! 

This  is  the  Mighty  God. 

The  world  has  its  gods  many.  Some  of  them 
are  very  powerful :  for  they  are  the  monarch s  of 
the  air,  the  forest,  and  the  deep ;  the  heroes  of 
the  fight  ;  and  the  elements  of  Nature.  But, 
powerful  as  they  are,  the  best  of  them  cannot 
for  a  moment  bear  comparison  with  Jehovah. 
Even  where  the  idolater  has  drawn  wholly  on 
his  imagination  for  his  gods,  he  has  failed  to  give 
us  the  equals  of  that  Great  Being  whom  the 
Christian  worships.  Mars  rages  in  the  field  and 
Jupiter  thunders  from  his  throne  like  some  great 
men  whom  some  greater  man  could  conquer. 
They  are  afraid,  they  struggle  at  their  enter- 
prises, they  are  even  defeated.     A  whole  senate 


24  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  such  gods  as  had  the  homage  of  old  Greece 
and  Rome  could  not  make  a  moment's  hesi- 
tation in  the  sweep  of  such  an  arm  as  belongs 
to  the  God  of  the  Scriptures  and  of  Nature. 
Right  on  through  their  best  array  that  arm 
would  drive  as  easily  as  through  purest  va- 
cancy. The  Mighty  One  is  Almighty.  He  has 
in  the  largest  degree  all  the  elements  of  might 
known  to  us.  As  a  creative  force,  and  as  source 
of  all  the  great  natural  forces,  He  is  infinitely 
more  forceful  than  they.  As  source  of  all  nat- 
ural structures,  so  various  and  exquisite,  He 
has  an  intelligence  beyond  any  limit  you  can 
assign.  And  then  His  intelligence  and  physi- 
cal force  have  a  whole  broad  eternity  to  act  in. 
These  are  the  Three  Mighties  of  God.  They 
give  us  a  being  whose  powers  cannot  be  matched 
or  approached.  Not  among  the  gods  of  the  na- 
tions. Not  among  the  sublimest  fancies  of  the 
poet.  A  mere  man  is  sometimes  called  His 
High  Mightiness.  I  show  you  now  a  being 
who  deserves  the  name. 

T/ie  Mighty  God  has  spoken.  Has  He  ^  Is  il 
indeed  true  that  the  Creator  has  opened  up  com- 
munication with  His  creatures }  Then  He  has 
wishes  and  purposes    concerning  us.     Then   He 


GOD   SPEAKS.  25 

means  to  concern  Himself  more  or  less  in  our 
affairs,  and  no  sense  of  immeasurable  superi- 
ority leads  Him  to  scorn  intercourse  with  the 
dwellers  on  His  footstool.  Has  He  indeed 
spoken  ?  Then  we  may  be  sure  that  what  He 
has  said  is  well  worth  the  hearing.  Some  great 
information  must  be  floating  about  us, waiting  for 
the  ears  of  the  wise.     But  can  it  be .'' 

Yes.  God  is  not  the  everlastingly  silent  Be- 
ing which  a  shallow  philosophy  once  thought, 
and  which  sinful  hearts  may  still  sometimes  wish. 
Is  it  likely  that  a  father  who  can  speak  to  his 
children  has  never  done  it }  Is  it  possible  that 
a  king,  in  the  course  of  a  long  reign,  has  never 
once  said  a  word  to  his  subjects  .^  We  do  not 
believe  it.  The  great  silence  has  been  broken. 
God  spoke  to  Adam  in  the  garden.  He  spoke 
to  Abraham  amid  the  pastures  of  Canaan.  He 
spoke  to  Moses  in  the  solitudes  of  the  desert. 
With  a  great  voice  that  whole  hosts  could  hear, 
He  spoke  to  the  host  of  Israel  at  Sinai.  And 
still  later  He  has  spoken  to  still  larger  hosts,  and 
far  more  fully  and  loudly.  Men  were  listening. 
The  air  was  filled  with  voices  of  all  sorts.  Sud- 
denly came  in  among  them  a  voice  grand  and 
sweet  beyond  all  its  fellows.     It  seemed  as  if  the 


26  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

deafest  and  most  distant  must  hear.  Many  did 
hear.  Their  ears  caught  the  direction  of  that 
great  sound,  and,  looking  up,  they  saw  One  filling 
the  sky  from  whose  parted  lips  rivers  of  speech 
were  still  flowing  —  concerning  Himself,  His 
character.  His  will.  His  claims  on  men  and  their 
rejection  of  these  claims,  a  consequent  wrath  and 
penalty,  a  way  of  escape  by  the  sacrifice  of  Christ 
and  a  practical  faith  in  Him,  great  and  varied 
motives  to  such  faith.  As  they  listened  they 
could  not  doubt  they  were  hearing  God.  They 
sank  on  their  knees  and  worshiped. 

Of  course  I  am  speaking  of  the  Bible.  Here 
is  God's  voice  loudly  written.  "  And  I  saw  a 
Book  written  within  and  on  the  backside,  and 
sealed  with  seven  seals."  One  was  the  seal  of 
miracles,  another  the  seal  of  prophecy,  another 
the  seal  of  special  providences,  another  the  seal 
of  adaptation  to  human  nature  and  wants,  an- 
other the  seal  of  a  triumphant  experience,  and 
so  on — seven  seals,  and  each  the  seal  of  a  king. 
Never  was  document  better  validated.  Find  in 
the  archives  of  nations  great  Magna  Chartas  all 
covered  with  broad  seals  in  the  presence  of  which 
doubt  and  trifling  are  dumb.  Let  them  be 
dumb  in  the  presence  of  tJicse  seals,  great  and 


GOD  SPEAKS.  27 

many,  which  God  has  set  on  the  Scriptures  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testament. 

And  called  the  earth  from  the  rising  of  tJie  snn 
to  tJie  goifig  down  thereof  That  is,  God  has  not 
only  spoken,  but  He  has  loudly  called  the 
attention  of  all  men  to  what  He  has  spoken. 

Of  course  He  wishes  attention  to  His  word. 
Did  you  ever  know  a  speaker  who  did  not  care 
for  good  listeners  .'' 

But  He  does  more  than  wish  for  attention. 
He  calls  strongly  for  it.  "  Search  the  Script- 
ures ; "  "  Give  earnest  heed  to  the  things  which 
ye  have  heard  "  —  hear  almost  any  number  of 
such  loud  calls.  Hear  them,  too,  in  the  many 
special  measures  He  takes  to  secure  attention  to 
His  Word.  Yoti  may  not  agree  with  me,  but  I 
seem  to  myself  to  hear  them  when  I  see  God  in 
His  providence  so  hugely  multiplying  copies  of 
the  Bible  in  almost  all  tongues  ;  also  when  I  see 
that  providence  calling  forth  so  vast  a  religious 
literature,  every  volume  of  which  points  steadily 
at  the  Bible.  Why  has  God  decreed  a  sabbath .'' 
It  is  chiefly  that  men  may  have  times,  many  and 
stated,  in  which  to  attend  to  the  Bible.  Why 
will  He  have  churches  dotting  the  land  by 
thousands  and  thousands  .■'     It  is  chiefly  that  men^ 


28  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

may  hdcve  places  in  which  to  attend  to  the  Bible. 
Why  will  He  have  ministers  of  religion  in  vast 
numbers  ?  It  is  chiefly  that  men  may  have 
persons  to  call  their  attention  to  what  the  Bible 
contains.  Have  you  ever  had  a  different  view 
of  the  purpose  of  the  ministry  ?  If  so,  think 
a  moment  and  correct  it.  Not  mere  orators  on 
any  religious  theme,  no  matter  what ;  not  mere 
sabbath  speculators  in  anything  that  can  be 
called  theology;  but  preachers  of  the  Word  — 
here  you  have  their  business,  and  the  whole  ot 
it ;  a  fact  never  to  be  forgotten  by  those  who 
speak  in  Christian  sanctuaries  and  by  those  who 
hear. 

So  bent  is  God  on  having  due  notice  taken  of 
His  Book,  that  He  is  not  content  with  the  ser- 
vices of  a  special  class  to  this  end,  but  seeks  to 
enlist  all  His  friends,  saying,  "  Let  him  that 
heareth  say.  Come."  "Whosoever  shall  do  and 
teach  my  words  shall  be  called  great  in  the  king- 
dom of  Heaven."  "  They  shall  be  in  thy  heart,  and 
thou  shalt  teach  them  diligently  to  thy  children, 
and  shalt  talk  of  them  when  thou  sittest  in  thine 
house,  and  when  thou  walkest  by  the  way,  and 
when  thou  liest  down  and  when  thou  risest  up." 
In  all  this  He  does  what  is  equal  to  lifting  up  a 


GOD  S PEAK'S.  29 

great  voice,  saying,  "  Attend  ye,  attend  ye,  to  the 
Book  which  tells  what  I  have  spoken  ! 

This  call  is  to  all  men.  These  ministers,  these 
sanctuaries,  these  sabbaths,  are  no  provincial  nor 
national  institutions.  They  are  for  "all  the 
world  "  and  "  every  creature  "  —  like  the  Gospel 
itself.  Though  the  Old  Testament  was  sent  first 
to  the  Hebrews,  though  parts  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment were  first  sent  to  individuals  and  local 
churches,  yet  we  now  know  that  the  whole  Bible 
was  meant  for  the  whole  human  race  by  Him 
who  would  have  "  all  men  come  to  the  knowledge 
of  the  truth."  Sent  under  cover  to  parts  for  the 
whole  —  is  this  an  unheard  of  thing  .-* 

How  does  a  human  government  seek  to  draw 
general  attention  to  its  laws  }  It  prints  them, 
posts  them  in  certain  conspicuous  places,  multi- 
plies copies  and  sends  them  out  in  all  directions, 
appoints  a  class  of  men  whose  business  it  shall 
be  to  know  the  laws  and  give  information  about 
them  to  all  inquirers.  If,  in  addition,  it  is  made 
the  duty  of  this  special  class  to  inform  even  non- 
inquirers,  and  to  go  up  and  down  the  land  as 
heralds  of  the  law,  crying,  "  Oyez,"  "  Oyez  !  " 
then  the  government  would  be  held  to  have  cried 
attention   to   all    its    subjects.     All  this  God  has 


30  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

done.  He  has  printed  His  will.  He  has  sent 
forth  endless  copies  of  it  in  every  direction.  He 
posts  them  in  churches  and  sabbaths.  He  pro- 
claims them,  whether  men  will  hear  or  forbear, 
at  the  lips  of  a  host  of  professional  heralds,  and 
lays  it  on  the  conscience  of  all  His  friends  to  see 
that  ministers  and  churches  and  sabbaths  go 
everywhere.  This  should  be  held  a  general  sum- 
mons to  the  world.  Hear,  all  ye  ends  of  the 
earth  ! 

It  is  true  that  all  people  do  not  as  yet  know  of 
this  call.  Many  years  may  pass  before  all  ears 
will  be  widely  open  to  the  voice  of  the  Lord 
calling  attention  to  the  Bible  as  being  what  He 
has  spoken.  Yet  the  call  is  real.  I  have  often 
spoken  loudly  to  people  who  did  not  hear.  They 
were  asleep.  Their  fingers  were  in  their  ears. 
So  not  a  syllable  really  reached  them.  But  it 
was  not  my  fault.  My  proclamation  to  them  was 
just  as  real  as  if  it  had  shaken  the  earth  and 
waked  the  dead.  So  is  this  Divine  proclamation. 
Some  do  not  hear  it,  some  will  not  hear  it ; 
but  it  is  meant  for  all,  is  needed  by  all,  is  on  the 
way  to  all,  and  would  ere  this  have  reached  all  if 
all  had  done  the  Divine  bidding. 

"  Whoso  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear  !  "     If 


GOD  SPEAKS.  31 

one  should  print  these  words  in  golden  letters  on 
the  cover  of  his  Bible,  God's  letter  would  not  be 
too  broadly  directed.  It  has  the  gift  of  tongues. 
It  speaks  in  all  languages.  It  stands  and  cries 
like  the  angel  of  the  Apocalypse  —  toward  the 
four  winds  —  and  the  great  voice  is  rolling  round 
the  whole  world.  It  means  the  Gentiles  as  well 
as  the  Jews  who  say,  "  God  speaks  to  us  alone  — 
what  have  you  to  do  with  the  God  of  Israel,  ye 
strangers  and  aliens  } "  It  means  the  philoso- 
phers who  think  they  know  too  much  to  need  the 
Bible,  as  well  as  the  simple  who  think  they  know 
too  little.  It  means  the  Pharisees  and  Brahmins 
of  society  who  feel  too  good  for  it,  as  well  as  the 
publicans  and  sinners  who  feel  too  bad  for  it.  It 
means  the  business  men  who  are  so  scant  of  time, 
as  well  as  the  idlers  who  are  so  scant  of  disposi- 
tion. It  means  the  little  children  who  are 
thought  too  young,  as  well  as  the  tottering  fa- 
thers and  mothers  who  are  thought  too  old.  It 
means  everybody  —  even  the  nobodies.  Let  them 
all  arouse  and  attend  to  what  God  has  spoken. 
His  words  are  in  His  Book ;  let  all  the  people 
attend  to  that. 

How  should  this  call  be  treated  .-*     I  will  not  in- 
sult your  understandings  by  trying  to  prove  that 


32  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

it  should  have  respect  and  even  veneration.  It 
should  have  much  more,  even  obedience.  You 
should  actually  give  the  attention  called  for. 
Treat  God's  letter  to  you  as  a  loyal  subject  of 
some  great  monarch  would  naturally  treat  a  writ- 
ten communication  from  him.  He  would  at  once 
take  it  reverently  in  hand,  would  study  out  all  its 
dark  passages,  would  possess  himself  fully  of  its 
contents,  would  weigh  them  well  and  even  lay  up 
the  substance  of  them  in  his  memory.  Do  you 
as  much  to  what  God  has  spoken.  Be  not  con- 
tent with  putting  a  finely-bound  Bible  on  your 
parlor  table,  nor  with  hearing  it  talked  about  for 
a  little  while  every  Sunday ;  nor  with  speaking 
well  of  it,  and  even  making  profound  obeisance 
toward  it  in  thought  and  speech,  as  a  Moslem 
does  bodily  toward  Mecca.  Read,  understand, 
weigh.  Call  up  the  Book  from  the  horizon  where 
it  seems  so  small.  Open  it  widely.  Set  it  in  the 
light.  Let  your  eyes  beam  on  it  like  stars.  Arm 
your  naked  sight  with  all  helpful  lenses,  as  does 
the  student  of  Nature.  Nay,  put  the  Book  within 
you.  Treat  it  better  than  you  do  any  other  book, 
instead  of  worse,  as  too  many  do. 

Consider.     This  Book   is  intrinsically  a   great 
thing.     Ask  true  scholars  and  they  will  tell  you. 


GOD  SPEAKS.  33 

Whoever  has  an  eye  to  literary  merit,  whoever 
wants  great  truth  on  great  themes,  whoever 
wants  the  best  moral  and  religious  guide  extant  in 
the  world,  let  him  look  at  this  most  ancient  vol- 
ume. It  is  true,  wholly  true,  and  has  all  the  truth 
essential  to  be  known  on  the  subject  of  subjects. 
By  far  the  most  valuable  book  in  a  world  crowded 
with  books.  This,  putting  it  solely  on  its  intrin- 
sic merits.  So  we  all  believe.  No  doubt  you  are 
willing  to  say  with  me  that  the  king  who  once  set 
his  Bible  a  blazing  with  gold  and  gems  did  not 
give  it  an  outside  richer  than  the  inside. 

This  great  treasure  comes  from  the  Jiighest  pos- 
sible source.  I  hope  you  have  great  thoughts  of 
God.  No  danger  of  your  having  too  great.  Nat- 
ure herself  is  beyond  our  thinking  ;  how  much 
more  the  Author  of  Nature.  Were  you  in 
Heaven  itself,  and,  from  that  vantage  ground, 
should  try  to  shoot  your  thought  up  to  that  sum- 
mit where  stands  the  throne  of  Him  who  is  eter- 
nal, omniscient,  and  omnipotent,  though  your 
bow  abides  in  strength,  you  would  yet,  watching 
the  flight  with  all  your  eyes,  be  overwhelmed 
to  see  how  small  a  part  of  the  untold  distance 
your  arrow  succeeds  in  passing  through.  One 
digging  among  the  ruins  of  ancient  Rome  turns 


34  PARISH  CHRISTTANITY. 

up  a  piece  of  gold.  A  glance  shows  him  that 
he  has  found  precious  metal  and  much  of  it  ; 
and  he  is  glad  accordingly.  But  when  the  anti- 
quaries have  shown  him  that  what  he  has  found 
came  from  the  old  Caesars,  and  is  really  the  his- 
toric seal  which  from  Augustus  downward  was 
used  for  all  imperial  edicts,  it  takes  on  new  value 
in  his  eyes.  Yesterday  he  would  have  sold  it  for 
a  guinea  or  two  ;  to-day  he  must  have  a  hundred 
times  as  much,  and  all  the  markets  for  such  things 
are  ready  to  give  him  what  he  asks. 

The  source  of  the  Bible  could  not  be  higher. 
And  then  the  Most  High  is  calling  attention  to 
the  Book  in  the  emphatic  manner  we  have  seen. 
This  puts  its  claim  to  notice  on  still  higher 
ground.  Had  God  contented  Himself  with 
merely  giving  the  Bible  —  if  He  had  never  stood 
and  pointed  at  it  and  cried,  "  Behold  ye.  Behold 
ye  !  "  —  cried  it  loudly  and  long  —  neglect  would 
have  been  a  much  less  grave  matter.  As  the 
case  stands,  it  is  well  nigh  inexcusable.  Such 
special  eftbrts  on  the  part  of  God  beget  special 
obligations  on  ours.  It  is  as  if  you  have,  not  only 
a  letter  from  the  king,  but  the  letter  delivered  by 
special  messenger.  He  comes  with  the  royal 
equipage.     His  steeds  are  flecked  with  foam.     A 


GOD  SPEAKS.  35 

Star  shines  on  his  breast,  and  around  him  is  the 
broad  baldrick  of  an  earl.  And  he  cries,  as  he 
puts  the  message  in  your  hand,  "  This  from  the 
king  —  let  it  have  prompt  and  careful  heeding." 
Now  you  are  under  great  pressure.  To  neglect 
the  letter  has  now  become  a  great  thing.  Will 
you  carelessly  toss  it  aside  to  await  your  conven- 
ience, or  cast  your  eye  lightly  over  it  as  if  it  were 
the  effusion  of  a  school-boy  ? 

Think,  also,  that  the  Bible  is  the  only  written 
message  from  God  to  men  that  ever  has  been  or 
will  be.  Among  the  so-called  sacred  books  this 
only  is  genuine.  It  contains  all  that  God  has 
written  to  us  in  past  ages.  In  all  the  ages  to 
come,  will  come  from  Him  no  further  revelation. 
No  more  is  needed.  The  Book  is  already  a  com- 
plete rule  of  faith  and  practice.  Out  of  it  the 
man  of  God  may  be  thoroughly  furnished  to  every 
good  word  and  work.  So  the  Canon  is  closed. 
Look  not  for  even  the  smallest  addition.  It  must 
be  what  we  have  or  nothing.  This  fact  may  well 
deepen  our  interest  in  the  Bible — just  as  the  fact 
that  this  letter  which  I  hold  in  my  hand  is  the 
first  I  ever  had  from  Victoria,  and  in  all  probabil- 
ity will  be  the  last,  may  well  give  it  special  value  to 
me  ;  just  as  the  fact  that  the  imperial  seal  which 


36  PARISH  CHRISTIAiYITY. 

I  have  dug  up  among  the  ruins  of  the  Palatine 
has  no  fellow,  and  from  the  nature  of  the  case  can 
have  none  in  all  the  ages  to  come,  may  well  make 
me  prize  it  all  the  more.  I  grasp  it  closely  with 
my  hand.  I  grasp  it  quite  as  closely  with  my  eyes. 
TJie  only  Cesariaii  seal  extant  —  as  I  think  of  it  I 
double  the  price  I  had  thought  of  asking.  My 
customer,  as  he  thinks  of  it,  doubles  the  price  he 
had  thought  of  giving.  He  is  almost  ready  to 
take  it  at  any  price. 

Never  a  book  made  such  a  stir  in  the  ivorld  as 
this.  It  has  been  more  talked  and  written  about, 
has  been  more  loved  and  hated,  has  had  more 
great  battles  fought  over  it  than  any  other 
book  in  existence.  See  whether  it  deserves  all 
this  ado.  Your  tax-collector  puts  up  his  petty 
proclamation.  The  governor  of  a  petty  state 
sends  out  a  proclamation  somewhat  larger  for  our 
yearly  fast.  The  President  of  our  whole  country 
yearly  gives  us  a  document  more  imposing  still  in 
behalf  of  a  national  thanksgiving.  A  few  years 
ago  went  out  from  the  national  capital  a  paper  of 
yet  greater  moment  —  the  Proclamation  of  Eman- 
cipation —  by  which  millions  of  hereditary  bond- 
men passed  from  under  the  yoke.  And  we  are 
hoping  for  the  time  when  a  Congress  of  nations 


GOD  SPEAKS.  37 

will  put  forth  a  manifesto  more  illustrious  yet  — 
one  emancipating  the  whole  world  from  the  hor- 
rors and  oppressions  of  war.  What  a  sublime 
thing  that  will  be !  But,  going  on  and  upward 
still,  going  long  and  far,  we  at  last  come  to  a  sum- 
mit of  proclamations  ;  one  greatly  the  most  fa- 
mous and  comprehensive  and  influential  of  all, 
and  including  all  ;  one  that  calls  for  Heaven's 
dues,  a  fast  for  sin,  a  thanksgiving  for  salvation, 
liberty  for  Satan's  captives,  peace  on  earth  and 
good-will  to  men  to  the  world's  end.  Of  course 
I  mean  the  Bible.  Never  was  such  manifesto. 
What  other,  unaided  by  fire  and  sword,  has  made 
such  a  fame  among  the  most  intelligent  of  man- 
kind .-*  What  other  has  made  such  durable 
changes  in  human  society .-'  Is  it  not  strange 
that  men  need  to  be  asked  to  look  with  special 
interest  on  such  a  Magna  Charta  as  this } 

In  this  Book  multitudes  have,  as  they  suppose, 
found  vast  blessings  —  pardon,  strength,  comfort 
inexpressible,  and  even  eternal  life.  Is  it  really 
so  }  Are  these  men  deluded,  or  is  the  Bible  that 
great  religious  Ophir  which  Bacon  and  Newton 
and  Boyle  thought  it .-'  Surely  it  is  a  matter 
worth  inquiring  into.  When  so  many  and  such 
men  cry  out  in  enthusiastic  tones,  "  I  have  found 


38  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

it,"  "  I  have  found  it,"  and  clap  their  hands  ex- 
ultingly,  it  surely  is  worth  while  for  poor,  hungry, 
naked  people  to  run  together  to  see  if  there  be 
not  help  for  them  also.  If  human  testimony  is 
good  for  anything,  a  large  and  splendid  experience 
has  proved  the  Bible  the  most  useful  of  books  ;  a 
very  encyclopedia  of  truths,  and  comforts,  and 
helps  of  the  choicest  kinds.  Much  is  said  in 
these  days  about  the  value  of  experiment  as  a 
source  of  knowledge.  Some  will  have  it  that 
nothing  deserves  the  name  of  knowledge  that 
comes  by  any  other  means.  They  bid  us  try  it 
on  the  Bible,  The  men  of  whom  I  speak  profess 
to  have  done  so,  and  with  very  great  success. 
Are  they  right  .-*  Institute  an  inquiry.  See  for 
yourselves  how  much  there  is  in  this  sort  of  talk. 
It  certainly  is  by  no  means  unlikely  that  a  revela- 
tion from  God  should  have  in  it  as  much  as  these 
men  claim  to  have  found  ;  nor  unlikely  that  you 
must  find  like  blessings  in  the  same  place.  You 
confess  as  much.  "  Search  the  Scriptures,  for  in 
them  ye  think  ye  have  eternal  life." 

And  then  I  would  have  you  prndent.  When 
the  Mighty  God  calls  is  it  safe  not  to  answer  } 
When  He  bespeaks  your  attention  to  what  He 
has  said,  will  it  do  to  withhold  it .''     Leaving  out 


GOD  SPEAKS.  39 

of  view  all  warnings  found  in  the  Book  itself,  is  it 
not,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  more  than  possi- 
ble that  some  great  harm  may  come  to  you  if  you 
neglect  Him  who  speaketh  from  Heaven  ?  Un- 
limited patience  would  be  no  merit  in  a  moral 
governor.  It  seems  as  if  the  creation  might  rue 
the  day  in  which  its  Great  Ruler  should  resolve 
on  never  being  a  terror  to  evil-doers,  and  settle 
down  into  a  monarch  of  ice  or  stone  whom  no  ex- 
tent of  ill-treatment  can  rouse  to  justice  and  judg- 
ment. Divine  patience  may  be  an  ocean  ;  but  it 
is  not  safe  to  deem  it  an  ocean  without  a  shore. 
No  reasonable  man  can  be  quite  free  from  misgiv- 
ings while  neglecting  the  loud  calls  of  such  a  be- 
ing as  God. 

Yes.  The  Bible  should  have  profound  atten- 
tion. If  a  Divine  Revelation  should  not  have  it, 
what  is  there  in  the  wide  universe  that  should  ! 
No  doubt  its  claim  should  be  honored  at  sight. 
But  think  of  it  —  what  intrinsic  merit,  what  lofty 
origin,  what  loud  calls  for  attention  ;  a  Book  with- 
out a  fellow  or  successor,  one  of  the  world's  Great 
Powers,  a  winner  of  golden  opinions  from  the 
wisest  and  best  —  is  it  well  and  prudent  to  treat 
this  Book  as  some  do  }  In  the  case  of  not  a  few 
it  is  almost  displaced  by  the  omnipresent  news- 


40  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

paper  or  novel.  Some  make  business  their  Bible 
—  both  Bible  and  God.  Some  make  Nature  their 
Bible  —  both  Bible  and  God.  Love  of  specula- 
tion, and  of  what  some  people  choose  to  call  phi- 
losophy, crowds  out  of  sight  the  message  from 
Heaven  Instead  of  going  to  this  and  finding 
what  it  teaches,  say  about  immortality  and  a  fu- 
ture state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  they  begin 
to  reason  about  what  can  be  and  cannot  be,  just 
as  if  God  had  not  already  written  out  for  us  just 
the  information  we  seek.  Perhaps  ministers  are 
sometimes  to  blame  for  this.  We  take  our  text. 
We  ask,  Can  this  be  proved  from  the  light  of 
Nature  }  And  so  we  spend  our  whole  time  in 
trying  to  get  from  reason  some  faint  echoes  of 
God's  voice  in  the  Bible.  As  if  a  plain  Scripture 
could  be  made  more  credible  in  this  way  !  As  if 
07ir  names  written  across  its  back  or  face  could 
strengthen  the  Word  of  the  Lord !  In  view  of 
the  harm  apt  to  be  done  in  this  way,  I  have 
sometimes  felt  like  promising  myself  that  I  would 
never  question  Nature  on  a  matter  of  which  the 
Bible  has  clearly  spoken.  What  is  the  use .'' 
Why  divert  the  gaze  of  men  from  the  Book  t 
When  God  has  spoken  why  should  they  waste 
their   time    in   trying    to   see    by   other    lights ! 


GOD  SPEAKS.  41 

When  the  sun  is  shining  why  Hght  our  lamps  ? 
Can  we  see  any  better  ?  Rather  the  worse.  The 
day  is  poisoned  by  our  candles.  We  perplex  and 
weaken  the  eyes  we  seek  to  help. 

In  this  day  of  many  books,  remember  The 
Book.  The  world  is  so  full  of  things  asking  to  be 
read  or  heard  —  things  novel,  things  startling, 
things  most  adventurously  and  dexterously  put, 
things  dressed  up  and  spiced  up  with  all  manner 
of  intellectual  cookery,  that  the  temptation  is 
strong  to  overlook  the  familiar  volume  whose 
plain  wholesome  accents  have  been  sounding  in 
our  ears  from  childhood.  Resist  the  devil.  What 
if  the  Book  is  an  old  story  .-*  Some  have  caught 
the  art  of  finding  it  always  new  ;  do  you  as  much. 
Give  it  something  that  deserves  to  be  called  at- 
tention. Study  it  day  and  night.  Study  it  with 
a  plenty  of  upward  looking  for  help.  Go  to  that 
directly  for  your  doctrines  and  your  rules  of  liv- 
ing. Decline  to  take  your  Gospel  at  second-hand 
—  even  from  commentaries.  I  do  not  counsel 
you  to  do  without  commentaries  ;  only  to  use 
them  with  a  certain  reserve  and  caution.  Some 
of  them  are  poor  helps.  Satan  is  in  some  of 
them.  Some  have  come  from  a  country  that  has 
dishonored  Protestantism  and  the  right  of  private 
judgment  by  a  most  irreverent  and  quixotic  hand- 


42  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

ling  of  the  Word  of  God  ;  and  not  a  little  of  the 
bad  leaven  has  forced  its  way  into  our  native 
books.  So  be  on  your  guard.  Do  not  be  at  the 
trouble  to  send  four  thousand  miles  for  the  mean- 
ing of  your  Bibles.  It  is  quite  unnecessary. 
Your  want  can  be  met  nearer  home.  Go  to  head- 
quarters. Drink  at  the  fountain's  head.  The 
best  commentator  on  the  Bible  is  itself.  Do  its 
plain  bidding,  pray  over  it  abundantly,  and  your 
whole  body  shall  be  full  of  light.  Do  not  ask 
captious  questions.  Never  allow  yourself  in  any- 
thing that  looks  like  wresting  the  Scripture. 
When  you  have  found  out  what  the  Book  says, 
regard  the  saying  as  final.  Make  your  farthing 
candle  of  a  reason  submit  to  the  sun.  If  you  do 
not,  you  will  be  sorry  as  long  as  you  live  —  and 
longer.  If  you  do,  you  will  be  glad  as  long  as 
you  live  —  and  longer.  You  will  become  wise 
unto  salvation.  You  will  escape  all  heresy.  You 
will  not  be  beaten  about  "  with  every  wind  of  doc- 
trine by  the  sleight  of  men  and  cunning  craftiness 
whereby  they  lie  in  wait  to  deceive : "  and  as  for 
that  maelstrom  of  guesses  and  suppositions  and 
disputations,  sometimes  called  philosophy,  in 
which  so  many  barks  are  cast  away,  you  will  so 
please  God  as  to  escape  from  it.  Not  a  small 
escape.     Few  come  safely  out  from  that  vortex. 


III. 

HIS    RIGHT    TO    ATTEND    TO 
OUR    AFFAIRS. 


III. 

HIS   RIGHT  TO   ATTEND   TO   OUR 
AFFAIRS. 

OOMETIMES  we  hear  a  man  spoken  of  with 
^^  praise  as  being  "  one  who  attends  to  his  own 
business."  Sometimes  we  hear  a  man,  with  fire 
in  his  eye  and  fire  on  his  tongue,  tell  his  neigh- 
bor to  "  mind  his  own  business."  Such  sayings, 
however  much  of  the  rude  and  bad  may  be  about 
them,  proceed  on  the  very  just  idea  that  one  may 
have  affairs  with  which  no  other  person  has  a 
right  to  concern  himself.  He  must  not  insert 
his  hand  in  them,  he  must  not  judge  them,  he 
must  not  even  inquire  about  them.  And  if  he  re- 
fuses to  give  them  any  attention  whatever,  and 
busies  himself  wholly  with  his  own  farm,  or  his 
own  trade,  or  his  own  soul,  he  deserves  high 
praise  as  being  both  prudent  and  just. 

And  yet  affairs  of  this  strictly  private  sort  are 
very  few.  Very  seldom  indeed  can  you  properly 
claim  that  your  neighbor  has  no  right  to  concern 


46  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

himself  in  any  way  or  degree  with  what  you  are 
doing  or  experiencing.  You  can  always  object 
to  certain  modes  and  degrees  of  interference,  but 
very  seldom  to  interference  itself.  Say  that  you 
have  taken  up  with  a  certain  system  of  culture  on 
your  farm,  or  a  certain  system  of  training  in  your 
family.  Should  any  neighbor  interfere  in  the  way 
of  brute  force  against  your  system  you  would 
have  cause  to  complain  of  him.  Should  he  inter- 
fere morally  —  with  his  arguments,  entreaties, 
remonstrances  —  so  incessantly  and  loudly  as  to 
make  it  a  vexatious  persecution,  you  might  well 
object.  But  you  are  very  far  from  having  a  right 
to  say  that  he  shall  not  concern  himself  at  all,  in 
any  way  or  shape,  with  your  style  of  farming  or 
with  your  way  of  bringing  up  your  family.  He 
has  a  right  to  look  into  the  propriety  of  your 
method,  to  make  temperate  statement  to  you  of 
such  evils  in  it  as  he  supposes  himself  to  have 
found,  to  take  measures  to  hinder  the  spread  of 
such  a  method  in  the  community  in  case  his  hon- 
est judgment  is  against  it  as  a  whole.  So  in 
most  other  cases  —  it  is  not  the  fact  of  interfer- 
ence on  the  part  of  your  neighbor  that  you  are 
entitled  to  object  to  ;  only  certain  modes  and  de- 
grees of  interference.     Each  man's  affairs  and  in- 


HIS  RIGHT   TO   ATTEND    TO    OUR   AFFAIRS.       47 

terests  are  so  interlocked  with  those  of  his  fellow- 
men  that  they  must  largely  stand  or  fall  together : 
and  there  is  hardly  any  matter  which  is  his  busi- 
ness which  does  not  thus  become  theirs.  And 
even  if  his  affairs  had  no  bearing  whatever  on  the 
interests  of  others,  the  great  law  of  benevolence 
might  still  require  them  to  make  such  affairs  mat- 
ters of  more  or  less  attention  and  even  active 
interference. 

So  much  for  interferences  on  the  part  of  our 
fellow-men.  What  about  interferences  on  the 
part  of  God  ?  To  what  extent  is  He  entitled  to 
make  our  business  His  business  ;  to  concern 
Himself  with  what  we  are  doing,  and  being,  and 
experiencing  ;  to  occupy  Himself  with  our  char- 
acter, our  actions,  and  our  welfare  "^  We  must 
now  widen  our  proposition.  We  must  even  cast 
off  from  it  all  limitations  and  exceptions.  If  our 
human  neighbor  may  properly  concern  himself 
with  most  of  our  affairs,  God  may  properly  con- 
cern Himself  with  all  of  them.  Be  sure  there  is 
not  a  solitary  exception  —  not  a  thing  on  which 
God  has  not  a  right  to  put  His  hand.  Though  it 
is  very  delicate,  private,  personal,  still  He  has  a 
right  to  inquire  into  it,  to  judge  it,  to  insert  at 
any  or  every  point  the  hand  of  His  activity  in  just 


48  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  measure  and  at  just  the  angle  He  chooses. 
Now  and  then  you  may  say  to  your  fellow-man 
who  presses  you  with  his  advice  or  his  protest, 
his  help  or  his  hindrance,  that  it  is  no  concern  of 
his  :  but  you  can  never  be  warranted  in  saying  or 
thinking  as  much  toward  God,  whatever  the 
measure  or  manner  of  the  interference  He  sees 
fit  to  put  forth  upon  you.  He  attends  to  His 
own  business  ;  but  let  all  whom  it  may  concern 
take  notice  that  it  is  a  part  of  His  business  to  at- 
tend to  the  business  of  all  other  beings. 

See  how  God  occupies  Himself  in  our  affairs  ! 
He  informs  Himself  as  to  them  all,  and  is  not 
content  till  He  has  carried  a  searching  gaze  into 
every  nook  and  corner  of  our  history  and  into  the 
smallest  particulars  of  our  lives.  He  takes  pos- 
session of  all  our  secrets,  uncovers  all  our  hiding- 
places,  insists  on  going  with  our  feet,  and  even 
with  our  thoughts  and  feelings,  on  all  their  most 
private  expeditions.  He  insists,  too,  on  having 
an  opinion  on  what  He  sees  —  making  free  to 
condemn  or  approve  according  to  His  finding  of 
the  facts.  He  will  not  only  go  with  us  wherever 
we  go  and  stay  with  us  wherever  we  stay,  bending 
on  us  an  eye  that  never  sleeps  ;  but  He  will,  at 
every  turn  and  in  all  companies,  give  us  His  ad- 


HIS  RIGHT  TO   ATTEND    TO   OUR   AFFAIRS.      49 

vice,  whether  we  ask  it  or  not,  whether  we  are 
willing  to  have  it  or  not.  Unasked,  undesired, 
repulsed,  it  may  be,  He  still  takes  it  upon  Him  to 
teach  and  discipline  us,  not  incidentally  and  occa- 
sionally, but  in  a  set  system  of  education  —  re- 
buking, commanding,  threatening,  chastising  even, 
as  He  sees  occasion.  He  takes  our  hand  and 
draws  us  hither  and  thither.  Now  he  beckons 
us,  and  now  he  scourges  us,  toward  certain  paths. 
He  makes  free  with  our  property,  our  friends, 
our  pleasures  —  to  increase  or  lessen  them,  as 
He  sees  fit.  In  our  plans  and  enterprises  (all 
of  them,  whether  great  or  small)  He  will  have 
something  to  do,  as  well  as  something  to  say  ; 
either  helping  us  or  hindering  us  in  His  high  in- 
dependence. He  especially  busies  Himself  with 
our  sins  and  virtues  ;  whether  they  are  great 
enough  to  startle  the  coarsest  eyes  of  men,  or  are 
like  the  motes  that  scarce  show  under  the  micro- 
scope and  the  sunbeam.  Like  the  tireless  waves 
and  murmurs  of  the  seas  are  His  actions  and 
counteractions  ;  His  accusations  and  condemna- 
tions ;  His  strivings  with  us,  for  us,  and  against 
us.  He  keeps  a  minute  account  of  all  our  affairs, 
and  has  given  out  that  He  will  one  day  bring  us 
into  formal  judgment  as  to  every  work  and  every 
4 


50  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

secret  thing,  whether  it  be  good  or  evil  —  punish- 
ing and  rewarding  on  the  boundless  field  of  an 
everlasting  life  ;  and  doubtless  He  will  be  as  good 
as  His  word. 

It  is  hard  to  see  how  God  could  busy  Himself 
in  our  affairs  more  than  he  actually  does,  accord- 
ing to  the  Scriptures.  It  is  of  this  unbounded 
interference,  however  annoying  it  may  be  felt  by 
many,  that  we  are  bound  to  allow  the  most  abso- 
lute propriety.  No  doubt  it  is  perfectly  right 
that  He  should  make  our  business  His  in  all  that 
astonishing  variety  and  breadth  of  interference  of 
which  the  Bible  tells  us. 

Notice  several  of  the  foundations  on  which  this 
right  rests. 

It  is,  in  part,  tJie  right  of  a  trustee  to  manage 
to  the  best  of  his  judgment  the  affairs  of  those  who 
have  vobmtarily  made  them  over  to  him  for  that 
purpose  —  or  ivJio  should  have  done  so. 

There  are  many  instances  of  such  trusteeship 
delivered  and  accepted  between  men  and  men. 
When  the  assignment  is  cordially  made,  perhaps 
pressed  on  the  friend  whose  only  motive  to  ac- 
cept is  his  good  will,  who  doubts  the  right  of  that 
friend  to  occupy  himself  busily  in  the  affairs  of 
his  trust  .'*     All   his  dealings  to  preserve  and  im- 


HIS  RIGHT  TO  ATTEND    TO   OUR  AFFAIRS.       51 

prove  the  estate  intrusted  to  him  are  purely  a 
"  minding  of  his  own  business  "  !  Go  on,  accepted 
and  accepting  trustee,  go  on  with  your  careful  in- 
spections of  buildings  and  lands,  and  tools  and 
notes  ;  and,  when  the  exact  state  of  all  is  well 
understood,  proceed  to  secure,  to  repair,  to  alter, 
to  strengthen,  to  pull  down,  to  throw  aside,  to 
cultivate  as  shall  seem  to  you  called  for  by  the 
best  interests  of  the  estate.  Who  shall  blame 
you  ?  All  men  confess  that  it  has  become  your 
business  to  attend  to  the  business  of  another. 

And  it  is  on  this  principle  that  we  are  able  to 
justify  a  part  of  Divine  interferences  in  human 
affairs.  They  are  those  of  a  trustee  looking  after 
the  interests  of  a  trust  cordially  made,  warmly 
pressed,  and  formally  accepted.  A  great  number 
of  men  have  begged  leave  to  make  over,  and  have 
actually  made  over  without  reserve,  to  God,  the 
affairs  of  themselves  and  their  families,  to  be 
managed  in  all  respects  at  His  discretion.  In  a 
spirit  of  disinterested  good  will  He  has  accepted 
the  trust.  And  now,  when  in  discharge  of  it  He 
keeps  His  eye  open  on  the  whole  history  of  such 
persons  (we  call  them  Christians)  down  to  its  most 
secret  and  trifling  chapters,  and  meets  them  at 
every  turn  with  His  counsel,  His  commands,  His 


52  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

constraints,  His  chastisements,  His  actions  and 
counteractions.  His  pleasant  or  unpleasant  disci- 
plines and  cultures  of  many  kinds  and  modes,  no 
one  who  knows  the  privileges  and  duties  of  trus- 
teeship will  .impute  fault  to  Him  on  account  of 
the  mighty  rain  of  His  interferences.  He  has  a 
plain  right  to  them.  They  are  His  own  busi- 
ness. Christians  will  remember  this,  if,  in  weak 
and  tempted  moments,  there  creeps  in  a  sense 
of  annoyance  at  the  intense  and  ceaseless  pres- 
ence and  pressure  of  the  Divine  Government  on 
them.  They  recollect  themselves.  They  say  it 
is  all  right.  This  is  what  they  have  stipulated 
for,  and  what  God  has  stipulated  to  do.  He  is 
no  officious  intermeddler.  Awaiting  in  faith  and 
patience  the  great  issue  of  His  crowding  interpo- 
sitions, they  expect  to  find  His  right  to  manage 
their  affairs  demonstrated  by  the  glorious  success 
of  His  management,  as  well  as  by  the  unlimited 
trusteeship  with  which  they  have  freely  empow- 
ered Him.  Whoever  has  not  so  empowered  Him 
should  have  done  so  long  ago.  So  that  in  re- 
spect to  him  God  has  all  the  rights  of  a  trustee, 
if  not  the  form. 

//  is,  in  part,  the  right  of  a  philanthropist   to 
look  after  the  interests  of  the  zuretchcd,  wicked,  and 


HIS  RIGHT   TO   ATTEND    TO   OUR   AFFAIRS.       53 

endangered,  and  after  the  nse  made  of  his  benefits 
by  those  receiving  them. 

A  man    who  really  loves    his  kind,  and  is  hon- 
estly bent  on  being  of  the  greatest  possible  use  to 
them,  has,   in  virtue  of  this   very  disposition,    a 
title    to   occupy  himself  very   considerably   with 
their   affairs.     Who   doubts    that  John    Howard, 
with  his  warm,  pitying  heart  and  self-sacrificing 
wish  to  lighten  the  woes  of   his   fellow-creatures, 
might  well  haunt  the  prisons  of  Europe,  ferreting 
out  their   abuses,  and  probing  the   histories    and 
bosoms    of    their   wretched    inmates  ?      Suppose 
that,  one    day,  while    he  was  busy   in   letting   in 
light  and  air   to   the   dark   and  noisome    cells,  a 
criminal  had  met  him  with  a  frown,  and  angrily 
bidden  him  to  "mind    his    own  business,"— what 
would  any  person  of  decent  reasonableness  have 
thought   of  such    treatment?     Who   doubts  that 
the  Nightingales  and  our  own  Sanitary  Commis- 
sion did  well  in  haunting  the  camps  and  hospitals 
of  war,  the  pallets  of  the  poor  shattered  soldiers 
far  away  from   home  and  friends,  with  kind,  soft 
words    and   gently   ministering   hands,  and   with 
prayers  and    Bible-readings   for   dying  men   who 
craved   them  ?     I  say,  who  doubts   their  right  to 
busy  themselves  on  these  merciful  errands  —  and 


54  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

did  ghastly  soldier  ever  start  up  from  his  cot 
and  dash  away  from  his  pillow  the  hand  that 
smoothed  it,  and  talk  fretfully  of  how  people 
should  attend  to  their  own  concerns  and  let  those 
of  other  people  alone  ?  The  Franckes,  the 
Muellers,  the  Sisters  of  Mercy,  on  a  thousand 
fields  where  poor  humanity  lies  bleeding,  are 
welcomed,  applauded,  universally  rejoiced  over  as 
ornaments  of  human  nature.  Every  reasonable 
person  feels  that  the  disposition  and  power  to  help 
the  needy  are  broadest  warrant  to  do  so. 

On  just  this  principle  we  can  justify  a  large 
part  of  Divine  interferences  in  the  affairs  of  men. 
They  are  the  doings  of  a  philanthropist,  looking 
after,  with  a  warm  and  pitying  heart,  the  interests 
of  poor,  guilty  and  endangered  beings.  On  the 
one  hand  is  the  world,  an  immense  lazaretto  of  a 
thousand  million  patients  in  all  stages  of  misery, 
disease,  and  need  ;  on  the  other  hand  is  God, 
yearning  over  them,  anxious  to  help  them,  able  to 
help  them,  actually  going  from  pallet  to  pallet 
with  His  medicines.  His  surgeries.  His  counsels, 
His  comforts.  His  providences,  His  Holy  Spirit 
—  a  thousand  ministries  by  which  He  seeks  to 
save  the  lost.  To  a  vast  extent,  God's  dealings  in 
our  affairs  are  disinterested  kindnesses  to  persons 


HIS  RIGHT  TO   ATTEND    TO    OUR   AFFAIRS.       35 

most  plainly  and  immensely  needy  ;  and  who  can 
think  such  helps,  as  they  go  with  their  soft  step 
and  gentle  hand  and  pitying  eye  about  his  sick 
bed,  to  be  an  officious  meddlesomeness,  a  going 
forth  of  Deity  beyond  His  proper  province,  and  a 
faulty  minding  of  things  that  do  not  belong  to 
Him  ? 

//  is,  in  paj't,  the  right  of  a  father  to  look  after 
the  affairs  of  his  children. 

Is  there  not  such  a  right  as  this  ?  Do  not  rea- 
son and  the  general  voice  of  mankind  bear  a  man 
out  in  looking  carefully  to  the  ways  of  his  house- 
hold —  pointing  out  their  faults,  correcting  them, 
commending  their  good  conduct  and  encouraging 
it  by  fitting  rewards  ;  guiding,  restraining,  chas- 
tising, educating  ;  and  to  this  end  exploring  their 
character,  habits,  and  movements  at  every  consid- 
erable point  ?  All  the  world  says.  Yes.  Not 
only  the  right  but  the  duty  of  a  father  is  it,  to 
know  what  his  children  are  about,  what  characters 
they  are  forming  ;  and  to  hedge  them  into  right 
ways  by  a  wide  variety  of  interferences,  always 
loving,  but  sometimes  magisterial  and  severe.  It 
is  his  business  to  attend  to  their  business.  He  is 
never  more  doing  for  himself  than  when  he  is  at- 
tending to  them  :  and,  while  he  is  carefully  watch- 


56  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

ing  over  their  ways  and  doing  his  best  to  bring 
them  up  to  a  virtuous  and  honorable  maturity, 
what  foolish  man  is  it  that  says  that  the  father  is 
unwarrantably  meddling,  and  should  attend  to  his 
own  business  ? 

See  the  way  in  which  we  can  justify  a  large 
part  of  Divine  interferences  in  our  affairs.  They 
are  those  of  a  fatJicr  who  is  looking  after  the 
affairs  of  his  children.  God  is  the  true  Father  ; 
and  we  are  His  sons  and  daughters  in  our  early 
minority.  Our  bodies  and  our  souls  are  stream- 
lets from  that  great  Fount  of  all  being  ;  and  the 
interest  which  God  takes  in  His  offspring  is  truly 
paternal.  He  covets  to  bring  us  up  to  a  glorious 
maturity  —  a  family  worthy  of  Himself.  But  we 
have  most  unhappy  dispositions,  most  unfortu- 
nate and  perverse  tendencies.  We  naturally  take 
with  great  zeal  and  stubbornness  to  wrong  paths. 
Who  would  make  anything  out  of  us,  or  even  save 
us  from  ruin,  must  watch  us  sharply  and  do  for  us 
mightily.  And  this  is  just  what  our  Divine  Fa- 
ther undertakes.  He  keeps  a  watchful  eye  on  all 
our  movements.  Where  we  go  and  where  we 
stay,  who  is  with  us  and  what  surrounds  us,  what 
we  are  doing  and  what  preparing  to  do  —  He 
makes  free  to  find  it  all  out,  whether  we  like  it  or 


HIS  RIGHT   TO   ATTEND    TO    OUR   AFFAIRS.     57 

not ;  and  on  the  basis  of  this  thorough  knowledge 
He  goes  into  that  great  variety  of  interferences 
which  we  know,  and  perhaps  sometimes,  in  our 
hearts,  complain  of.  But  what  right  have  we  to 
complain  ?  Is  not  all  this  a  father's  business  ? 
Would  the  great  Father  in  Heaven  keep  any 
better  within  His  sphere  should  He  throw  the 
reins  on  the  necks  of  our  wayward  wills,  and 
give  Himself  up  to  listening  to  the  music  of  the 
spheres  ? 

It  is,  in  part,  the  right  of  a  proprietor  to  look 
after  tJie  state  and  interests  of  his  oivn  property. 

Do  you  own  a  farm  ?  Then  doubtless  you  feel 
warranted  in  looking  after  its  condition,  and  in 
taking  some  care  of  it.  And  should  you,  under 
the  influence  of  such  a  feeling,  go  on  to  learn  the 
qualities  of  your  various  fields,  to  clear  off  the 
stones,  to  improve  the  fences,  to  drain  away  the 
superfluous  moisture,  and  then,  according  to 
the  nature  of  the  ground,  fertilize  and  cultivate 
to  this  or  that  crop,  and  even  condemn  a  certain 
corner  that  seems  incurably  barren  to  receive  the 
stones  and  other  refuse  matter  of  the  whole  farm, 
you  would  not  be  likely  to  find  many  to  look  over 
to  you  from  the  roadside  and  accuse  you  of  being 
improperly  engaged.     Such  a  concerning  yourself 


58  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

with  your  own  fields  at  their  various  points  of 
need  would  be  universally  thought  a  very  proper 
minding  of  your  own  business. 

Now  this  is  really  justifying  a  large  part  of 
Divine  interferences  in  our  affairs.  They  are 
those  of  a  proprietor  looking  after  his  own  prop- 
erty. You  are  God's  property.  I  am  his  property. 
There  is  no  man,  and  no  belonging  of  any  man, 
that  does  not  fall  within  the  scope  of  the  same 
infinite  proprietorship  —  a  proprietorship  more 
complete  in  its  character  and  deep  in  its  founda- 
tion than  any  that  ever  belonged  to  man.  God  is 
Creator.  He  made  the  very  substance  of  every- 
thing else,  and  has  never  deeded  the  fee  of  any- 
thing to  anybody.  Hence,  when  He  goes  abroad 
with  his  critical  eye  over  his  great  property,  and 
especially  pries  into  the  whole  state  of  the  earthly 
portion  of  it,  and  goes  on  to  put  it  into  the  best 
state  that  circumstances  will  permit  to  tireless 
activity  and  boundless  resources —  casting  off  its 
refuse  sins  ;  draining  its  marshy  vices  ;  plowing 
up  with  the  sharp  shares  of  His  Providence,  truth, 
and  Spirit,  the  tough,  thistly,  fallow  ground  of  our 
hearts  and  lives  ;  enriching  it,  planting  it  with 
all  Christian  virtues,  cultivating  it  with  a  steady 
and    all-embracing    watchfulness    and    industry  ; 


HIS  RIGHT  TO   ATTEND    TO   OUR   AFFAIRS.      59 

and,  at  last,  in  the  exercise  of  His  Divine  judg- 
ment, giving  over  some  incorrigible  barren  for  the 
waste  heap  of  the  entire  property  —  I  say,  when 
God  is  seen  doing  this  with  His  own,  in  all  the 
measures  and  manners  of  industrious  interference 
that  seem  to  His  wisdom  best  for  making  the 
most  of  the  great  estate,  who  shall  deny  His  right 
thus  to  mind  His  own  business  ? 

It  is,  in  part,  the  right  of  a  laivfiil  ruler  to  look 
after,  the  affairs  of  J  lis  subjects. 

Is  Victoria  a  lawful  ruler  —  she,  heir  of  the 
elect  and  ancient  royalty  of  Brunswick,  and  her- 
self personally  the  elect  of  her  people's  heart  ? 
Does  any  one  find  fault  with  this  sovereign  be- 
cause she  carries  her  cares  and  efforts  beyond  the 
state  rooms  of  Buckingham,  and  the  ancient 
towers  of  Windsor,  and  the  parks  of  Balmoral, 
and  informs  herself  of  the  state  of  the  various 
classes  of  her  subjects,  and  then  tries  to  do  for 
them  according  to  this  information  ?  Behold  her 
motherly  thought  asking  how  the  poor  may  better 
live,  the  ignorant  be  better  instructed,  the  vicious 
be  better  restrained  or  reformed  ;  asking  what 
old  laws  need  to  be  put  in  force,  and  what  new 
ones  made  ;  asking  what  merit  she  shall  raise  to 
honors,  and  what  demerit  she  shall  pluck  down  ; 


6o  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

asking  whom  she  shall  shelter  with  the  public 
shield,  and  whom  threaten  with  the  public  sword. 
Who  doubts  she  has  a  right  to  do  all  this  ?  We 
say,  it  is  her  business  to  attend  to  the  affairs  of 
her  subjects.  She  would  be  a  great  criminal 
should  she  neglect  to  do  so.  How  absurd  would 
it  be  for  some  chancery  that  has  been  purified  by 
her  efforts,  some  public  servant  who  has  been 
ennobled  by  her  patent,  some  criminal  who  has 
been  pardoned  by  her  clemency  or  punished  by 
her  justice,  to  frettingly  cry  out  that  she  should 
mind  her  own  business  ! 

Pass  we  from  this  sovereign  to  a  higher,  and 
justify  another  large  part  of  Divine  interferences 
in  the  affairs  of  men.  They  are  those  of  a  lawful 
ruler  looking  after  the  welfare  of  His  dominions. 
On  the  one  hand  we  have  God  —  ruler  by  perfect 
qualifications  as  greatest  and  best,  also  by  right 
of  eternal  possession  of  the  throne,  also  by  free 
choice  of  all  wise  and  good.  On  the  other  hand 
we  have  this  world  of  men  —  one  small  province 
of  the  empire,  in  which  there  is  not  a  person  who 
does  not  owe  allegiance  to  the  King  eternal,  im- 
mortal, invisible.  And  this  our  King  does  not, 
.  as  He  should  not,  confine  Himself  to  His  Wind- 
sor in  the  skies.     Downward  and  abroad,  through 


HIS  RIGHT   TO  ATTEND    TO    OUR   AFFAIRS.      6 1 

all  His  endless  provinces,  He  pours  the  floods 
of  His  mighty  observing  and  of  His  mighty 
doing.  Behold  the  comforting  of  sorrow,  the 
relief  of  want,  the  teaching  of  ignorance,  the 
reform  of  guilt,  the  commanding  of  the  way- 
ward, the  restraint  and  punishment  of  the  in- 
corrigible, the  reward  of  merit !  Is  this  some- 
thing to  be  clamored  against,  or  even  thought 
against  ?  I  will  not  say  it  —  nor  will  you.  But 
you  will,  on  the  contrary,  say,  as  you  see  the 
point  of  a  Divine  scepter  touching  every  human 
enterprise  and  stirring  the  secret  depths  of  every 
human  plan.  Let  no  man,  from  sunrise  to  sunrise, 
venture  to  speak  or  think  a  complaint  against  this 
interfering  God  —  at  least  no  one  who  admits 
that  a  lawful  sovereign  is  only  minding  his  own 
business  when  he  looks  closely  after  the  state  and 
conduct  of  his  subjects. 

//  is,  in  not  a  few  cases,  the  sum  of  all  the  fore- 
going rights. 

Put  weight  after  weight  on  the  same  object  till 
its  supporting  power  is  exhausted.  Lay  mortgage 
after  mortgage  on  the  same  estate  till  its  whole 
value  is  covered.  This  is  what  God  has  done 
on  many  things  —  especially  on  our  faculty  of  ac- 
cepting the  teaching  and  doing  the  bidding  of  the 


62  PARISH  CIIRTSTIANITY. 

Bible.  His  right  to  this  is  not  single  but  many. 
He  puts  on  it  claim  after  claim.  It  is  mort- 
gaged to  Him  over  and  over  again  on  many 
distinct  grounds  —  on  the  ground  of  His  disin- 
terested philanthropy,  of  His  tender  fatherhood, 
of  His  absolute  ownership,  of  His  eternal  sov- 
ereignty ;  on  the  ground  also  of  His  trusteeship, 
for  if  any  have  not  yet  freely  given  Him  this  they 
ought  to  do  so  without  delay.  No  one  can  de- 
cline to  be  a  Bible  disciple  without  shooting  an 
arrow  at  each  of  these  divine  relations  ;  and  let 
every  one  consider  the  guilt  of  such  a  manifold 
assault  on  Him  with  whom  we  have  to  do. 


IV. 

MEN    AS    HIS    SUBJECTS. 


IV. 

MEN  AS   HIS   SUBJECTS. 

OOME  nations  go  by  the  name  of  stibjects. 
*"~-^  They  are  British,  or  German,  or  Austrian 
subjects  —  being  under  regal  or  imperial  govern- 
ment. But  we  never  hear  of  the  subjects  of  Swit- 
zerland, or  of  the  United  States.  The  people  of 
these  countries  call  themselves  citizens.  As  re- 
publicans they  think  themselves  free  of  all  men, 
call  no  man  master,  even  make  themselves  out  to 
be  sovereigns. 

Still,  whatever  name  men  bear,  and  whatever 
name  they  choose  for  themselves,  whether  royal- 
ists or  republicans,  subjects  or  citizens,  it  cannot 
be  concealed  that  every  person,  the  wide  world 
over,  is  a  true  subject.  The  government  visibly 
nearest  us  is  republican  ;  but  then,  outside  of  this, 
and  closely  embracing  it  at  all  points,  is  another 
of  far  greater  significance  ;  and  this  government 
is  nionarcJiical  in  the  strongest  sense  of  the  term. 
It  is  that  of  the  King  eternal,  immortal,  invisible. 
He  royally  governs  us  by  the  laws  of  Nature. 
His  providence  shapes  our  courses  and  fortunes, 
5 


66  PARISH  CnRISTIAXITY. 

compels  us  this  way  and  that,  gives  us  this  and 
that  experience,  after  a  most  sovereign  manner. 
He  makes  and  writes  out  statutes  for  us  in  our 
own  consciences  and  in  a  Book.  Behold  the  Law 
and  the  Prophets  !  Behold  the  New  Testament 
laws !  They  are  His  crown,  His  throne,  His 
scepter  toward  us.     They  make  him  our  King. 

Our  relation  to  God  as  subjects  is  no  new 
thing.  It  goes  back  as  far  as  we  do.  That  little 
child  whose  helplessness  is  embosomed  and  car- 
ried about  by  parental  care  and  strength  is  also 
embosomed  and  carried  about  by  the  great  gov- 
ernment of  God.  Not  sooner  did  the  light  find 
its  way  through  the  silky  curtains  of  those  dawn- 
ing eyes,  than  did  God,  with  a  crown  on  His  head 
and  a  scepter  in  His  hand,  look  in  at  them  and 
say,  "  My  subject."  And  He  keeps  on  saying  it 
till  His  words  fall  on  the  dull  ears  of  the  hoary 
headed  man. 

The  individual  goes  back  to  no  time  when  he 
was  not  the  subject  of  this  King.  Nor  does  the 
race  itself  go  back  so  far,  though  it  be  sixty  cent- 
uries, as  to  find  a  time  when  there  was  no  divine 
scepter  stretched  over  it.  From  Eden  down- 
ward, God  has  always  governed  men  right  royally. 
No  period,  nor  race,  nor  nation  in  which  He  has 


MEN  AS  HIS  SUBJECTS.  6/ 

not  set  up  His  throne.  Sometimes  we  speak  of 
the  Jewish  Theocracy  as  if  God  had  never  been 
king  over  the  Gentiles  ;  but  the  fact  is,  that  this 
kingly  relation  to  the  chosen  people  was  but  a 
particular  and  more  visible  form  of  that  sov- 
ereignty that  had  already  been  ruling  for  ages 
over  young  and  old,  high  and  low,  bond  and  free 
in  all  lands.  "  A  glorious  high  throne  from  the 
beginning  is  the  place  of  thy  sanctuary!"  All 
nations,  all  races,  all  historic  periods,  have  come 
and  gone  at  the  hands  of  His  imperial  providence  ; 
have  been  threaded  in  every  direction  by  the 
steps  of  a  Lawgiver  on  whose  head  were  many 
crowns,  and  in  His  hand  many  scepters. 

And  we  shall  be  subjects  ahvays.  There  is 
no  loop-hole  of  retreat  through  which,  by  some 
dexterous  management,  one  may  slip  out  from  the 
kingdom  of  God.  To  do  this  one  would  have  to 
go  further  and  manage  better  than  ever  did  creat- 
ure yet.  Should  a  sense  of  this  relation  to  God 
come  to  prove  irksome  to  us,  we  may  for  a  time 
get  rid  of  the  unpleasant  sense  of  it ;  but  as  to 
getting  rid  of  the  fact  itself,  as  men  sometimes  rid 
themselves  of  a  human  king —  where  is  the  man 
that  shall  see  that  feat  accomplished  !  The  Ger- 
man   subject   who   dislikes    the   empire,   may,  by 


68  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

going  at  the  most  but  a  few  hundred  miles,  cross 
the  frontier  and  find  himself  a  German  subject  no 
longer.  Who  shall  cross  the  frontier  of  God's 
empire  ?  The  Austrian  subject  who  dislikes  the 
empire  of  the  Hapsburgs  may,  perhaps,  by  a  well 
contrived  insurrection,  cast  off  the  odious  scep- 
ter and  become  an  Italian  again  :  but  who,  by 
any  possibility,  can  make  successful  insurrection 
against  the  scepter  of  Jehovah  ?  No,  as  a  man  is 
born  so  will  he  live  and  so  will  he  die  —  under 
the  same  steadfast  sovereignty. 

And  this  Divine  sovereignty  will  last  through 
all  getieratioiis  as  well  as  through  our  individual 
lives.  Is  not  God  yonder  —  and  yonder  .-'  Look 
carefully  away  into  the  distance  and  you  will  be 
sure  to  catch  at  least  a  glimpse  of  Him  in  His 
shining  royalty.  He  sets  up  His  throne  in  the 
next  century,  and  the  next,  and  the  next  —  and  in 
what  century  does  He  not  set  it  up  .''  I  ascend 
my  Pisgah  and  look  down  through  ages  beyond 
counting,  and  lo,  the  King  in  every  one  of  them. 
I  take  my  best  telescope  and  look  still  further 
through  all  the  ages  that  angels  or  God  shall  see  ; 
and  nowhere  along  these  awful  stretches  of  dis- 
tance do  I  find  this  Infinite  Monarch  in  a  state  of 
abdication  or  dethronement.     Thy  throne,  O  God, 


MEN  AS  HIS  SUBJECTS.  69 

is  forever  and  ever.  Thy  kingdom  is  an  ever- 
lasting kingdom,  and  thy  dominion  is  from  gener- 
ation to  generation. 

Man  is  a  complete  subject.  Body  and  soul  — 
he  is  wholly  in  God's  power.  Now  God  be 
thanked  that  no  other  being  is  awful  with  such 
power  as  this  !  The  laws  of  God  are  laid  on  all 
parts  of  our  nature  and  on  all  our  relations.  In 
this  respect  the  Divine  King  goes  before,  far  be- 
fore, any  human  one.  The  secondary  monarchs 
that  head  our  tribes  and  nations  single  out  a  few 
outward  acts  to  be  bidden  or  forbidden,  and  put 
forth  their  laws  accordingly  ;  but  by  far  the  larger 
part  of  outward  acts,  and  all  our  thoughts  and 
feelings,  are  left  untouched  by  these  mortal  .scep- 
ters. But  the  immortal  scepter  of  the  King  of 
kings  is  laid  at  full  length  on  all  things,  without 
exception,  within  His  endless  dominion  —  es- 
pecially on  all  that  comes  in  any  degree  under 
the  control  of  human  will.  You  cannot  mention 
a  thing  in  the  least  affected  by  your  choice,  in 
regard  to  which  God  has  not  sent  you  a  law 
which  He  will  enforce.  See  how  wide  is  your 
subjection  !  Everything  at  all  voluntary  is  under 
the  yoke  of  conscience  and  Scripture  —  which  is 
the   yoke  of  God.     The   authority   of    God   is   a 


yo  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

gleaner  after  all  other  authorities.  It  comes  in 
and  appropriates  not  only  what  other  governments 
have  reaped,  but  also  their  profuse  leavings,  till 
not  a  solitary  stalk  is  left.  That  keen  sickle 
sweeps  the  whole  field  clean  at  a  stroke.  So 
thoroughly  are  we  subjects.  So  completely  do 
our  whole  moral  being  and  history  lie  within  the 
golden  circle  of  the  crown  of  crowns.  Though 
the  least  obvious  of  all  sovereignties  —  though  it 
allows  our  senses  no  certain  signals  of  itself  in 
the  form  of  visible  palaces  and  regalia  and  body- 
guard and  a  diademed  and  throned  personage 
who  is  the  center  of  all  the  courtly  pomp  —  still 
this  sovereignty  of  God  is  the  broadest  and  most 
emphatic  which  our  thought  can  conceive. 

And  it  is  the  most  absolute.  Nothing  to 
hinder  God  from  doing  just  as  He  pleases.  In 
making  laws  and  executing  them  He  has  nothing 
to  consult  but  His  own  most  sweet  and  holy  will. 
The  chief  magistrate  of  a  republic  must  guide 
himself  by  that  constitution  which  others  have 
made  for  him  ;  the  Queen  must  not  act  without 
her  Ministers  and  Parliament  ;  and  even  the  em- 
peror of  what  is  called  a  despotism  feels  that  he 
must  shape  his  rule  with  some  regard  to  public 
opinion.     His  absolutism  is  "  tempered  by  assas- 


MEN  AS  HIS  SUBJEC7S.  J I 

sination."  But  what  has  God  to  fear  should  His 
course  cross  the  wishes  and  sentiments  of  His 
subjects  ?  His  independence  is  perfect.  Who 
shall  bring  Him  to  account?  Who  shall  make 
Him  afraid  ?  Show  us  the  armies  that  can  man- 
age to  drag  the  Omnipotent  from  His  high  seat ! 
He  can,  with  entire  safety,  set  at  defiance  all  the 
wishes  and  mights  of  all  His  creatures.  In  point 
of  fact,  He  does  work  all  things  after  the  counsel 
of  His  own  will.  Behold  the  Absolutism  !  Not 
merely  chief  magistrate,  not  merely  First  Con- 
sul, President,  Lord  Protector,  King,  is  He ; 
but  immemorial  and  immeasurable  Autocrat  and 
Dictator  —  taking  His  authority  from  no  one, 
giving  no  account  of  any  of  His  matters,  allowing 
no  appeal  from  His  tribunal,  issuing  His  laws  and 
executing  them  without  taking  counsel  of  any  ;  in 
fine,  doing  according  to  His  will  in  the  armies  of 
Heaven  and  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth, 
without  any  to  stay  His  hand,  or  say  to  Him, 
What  doest  thou  1 

When  we  look  at  the  great  European  absolute 
monarchy,  and  see  threescore  and  ten  millions  of 
men  holding  life  and  all  at  the  beck  of  one  man, 
we  find  ourselves  deeply  impressed.  How  Alex- 
ander   shines    from    his    terrible    hight  —  espe- 


72  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

cially  to  his  own  proper  subjects  !  Do  they  forget 
that  they  are  Uving  under  a  scepter  ?  Do  they 
forget  that  the  scepter  under  which  they  live  is 
absolute  ?  Yet  what  is  the  monarchy  of  all  the 
Russias  by  the  side  of  the  monarchy  of  God  ? 
Shall  men  look  up  dizzily  at  the  hight  of  the 
one,  and  yet  have  no  eye  of  amazement  for  that 
other  summit  so  unspeakably  above  ?  Shall  they 
quietly  drop  out  of  their  lives  that  the  Divine 
government  is  not  a  democracy,  nor  a  republic, 
nor  an  oligarchy,  nor  even  a  mere  monarchy,  but 
a  monarchy  the  sole  spring  of  which  is  one  infi- 
nite and  irresponsible  will  ?  Shall  they  bow  and 
tremble  before  an  earthly  thro'ne  which  began  to- 
day and  may  end  to-morrow,  and  yet  feel  no 
sinking  of  the  soul  before  that  Divine  Throne 
which  carries  the  sweep  of  unlimited  authority 
through  the  wide  circuit  of  creation  and  abides  in 
unwasted  grandeur  from  everlasting  to  everlast- 
ing? What  though  we  do  not,  just  at  this 
present,  see  about  us  certain  things  such  as  are 
wont  to  proclaim  a  monarch  of  the  first  class  — 
the  gorgeous  capital,  the  palace,  the  crown,  the 
marching  armies  !  These  things,  or  their  equiva- 
lents; exist  ;  and  some  of  them  have  been  seen. 
A  little  beyond  the  edge  of  vision  troop  legions  of 


MEN  AS  HIS  SUBJECTS.  73 

angels.  Away  in  the  sky  the  city  of  God  up- 
rears  ineffable  palaces  where  His  diadem  spark- 
les, His  throne  is  set,  and  His  august  court  is 
held.  Sometimes  His  shining  soldiery  have  trod 
the  earth  in  view  of  men ;  sometimes  prophets 
have  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  metropolis,  Jerusa- 
lem, fixed  on  its  everlasting  hills  or  coming  down 
from  God  out  of  Heaven.  On  a  day  that  hastens, 
the  glorious  "  pomp  and  circumstance  "  that  really 
belong  to  the  Great  Monarchy  will  be  seen  by  all. 
For  the  present  we  will  take  it  on  trust.  The 
Bible  shall  be  to  us  for  eyes. 

Conscript  subjects  !  The  subjects  of  a  human 
king  are  held  to  owe  him,  on  occasion,  military 
service ;  and  many  a  time  does  the  trumpet 
sound  and  imperatively  call  them  to  the  field. 
God  our  King  has  His  wars.  They  are  of  such  a 
nature  that  the  youngest,  the  oldest,  and  the 
weakest  can  successfully  engage  in  them  ;  are  of 
such  a  nature  that  the  services  of  every  subject 
are  in  demand.  So  the  trumpet  sounds.  Forth 
into  the  field  of  sharp  and  steady  strife  against 
sin  and  Satan,  God's  ancient  enemies  and  ours  ! 
No  exceptions  are  allowed,  under  any  excuse 
whatever.  We  can  neither  buy  nor  beg  off  from 
the  holy  campaign.     No  pressure  of  business    or 


74  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  infirmity  will  secure  our  discharge.  It  is  a 
case  of  conscription.  Behold  the  roll  —  every 
name  is  on  it.  Hearken  to  the  trumpet  —  every 
name  is  shouted  to  the  four  winds.  Says  the 
herald,  "  War  is  declared,  the  foe  is  abroad,  go 
forth  every  one  of  you  to  the  fight.  Take  to  your- 
selves the  whole  armor  of  God.  Be  good  sol- 
diers. Quit  you  like  men,  be  strong,  watch  you, 
stand  fast  ;  for  you  wrestle  not  against  flesh  and 
blood,  but  against  principalities  and  powers  of  the 
darkness  of  this  world.  You  have  evil  tendencies 
—  conquer  them.  You  have  evil  habits  — slay 
them.  Temptations  to  new  sins  as  well  as  to  old 
ones  assault  you  daily  and  hourly —  fight  against 
them  with  all  your  forces.  To  him  that  over- 
cometh  will  I  give  to  eat  of  the  tree  of  life  which 
is  in  the  midst  of  the  paradise  of  God.  But  he 
that  is  overcome  will  get  no  quarter  from  his  foes 
and  no  indulgence  from  his  sovereign." 

Though  man's  relation  to  God  as  subject  has 
these  strong  and  stern  features,  though  he  is  to 
the  crown  of  Heaven  a  real,  ancient,  permanent, 
complete,  and  conscript  subject,  yet  the  subjec- 
tion is  altogether  just  and  exceedingly  honorable. 
God  is  our  rightful  King.  He  has  a  perfect  right 
to  reisn  over  the  race  from  its  distant  beginning 


MEN  AS  HIS  SUBJECTS.  75 

to  its  distant  end  ;  to  reign  over  all  its  relations 
and  interests,  activities  and  experiences  of  every 
kind  and  degree  ;  to  reign  over  them  as  a  con- 
scripting king  whose  commanding  trumpets  call 
out  all  his  subjects  into  the  field  of  war  against 
sin  and  death  and  hell.  He  is  so  good,  so  capa- 
ble ;  we  are  so  narrow,  so  blind,  so  tempted,  so 
unfit  to  have  our  own  way  ;  it  is  matter  for  pro- 
found satisfaction  that  He  has  chosen  to  include 
us  within  the  circumference  of  His  kingly  rule. 
It  is  right.  It  is  best  for  all  parties.  We  can  be 
good  subjects,  and  He  is  sure  to  be  the  best  of 
masters.  He  always  treats  His  subjects  well. 
Never  asks  of  them  anything  beyond  their  abil- 
ity ;  never  asks  what  is  not  for  their  advantage. 
Never  is  severer  with  them  than  is  absolutely 
necessary  ;  never  keeps  back  from  them  any  favor 
that  He  can  consistently  grant.  His  great  study, 
so  to  speak,  is  to  be  of  service  to  them.  Their 
cup,  here  and  hereafter,  shall  have  as  much  of 
sweet  and  as  little  of  bitter  as  circumstances  will 
allow.  Know  Him  for  the  tenderest  of  monarchs 
that  ever  blazed  on  a  throne.  One  so  forbearing 
and  placable  never  held  the  fates  of  men  in  his 
hands.  And  His  government  is  the  only  one  for 
the  support  of  which  the  subject  has  absolutely 


•jQ  PARISH  CHRISTIANirV. 

nothing  to  pay.  This  King  maintains  His  own 
great  state.  His  Civil  List  never  appears  to  you 
or  me.  We  have  but  to  admire,  rejoice  in,  and 
take  the  benefit  of,  a  glory  that  costs  us  nothing. 
And  it  is  vastly  honorable  to  be  the  loyal  subjects 
of  God.  Perhaps  the  word  subject  has  to  your  re- 
publican ears  a  somewhat  unpleasant  sound  ;  but 
to  be  the  leal -hearted  subjects  of  such  a  magnifi- 
cent and  wondrous  empire  as  that  of  Jehovah  is 
really  a  higher  honor  than  to  stand  at  the  head  of 
any  earthly  kingdom.  His  hearty  service  is  lib- 
erty itself.  We  have  angels  and  archangels  as 
companions  in  it.  The  loyal  subject,  by  virtue  of 
that  very  character,  becomes  a  son  of  God  and 
heir  of  heavenly  kingdoms  ;  and  if  you  can  take 
the  hight  of  such  a  summit  as  that,  you  can  do 
more  than  St.  Paul  supposed  possible  to  him. 
No  arrow  was  ever  shot  at  so  high  a  mark.  No 
thoughts  of  men  ever  went  so  far  heavenward. 

And  yet,  alas,  man  is  naturally  an  insnbordinate 
subject.  Though  his  subjection  to  God  is  right- 
ful, tenderly  enforced,  and  highly  honorable,  he 
does  not  relish  it.  He  does  no  little  to  cast  it  off. 
Sometimes  he  flatly  refuses  to  obey  the  laws  of 
his  sovereign.  He  always  neglects  to  do  it  — 
always  thinks  of  God  and   His  government  as  lit- 


MEN  AS  HIS  SUBJECTS.  yy 

tie  as  may  be.  Instead  of  giving  complete  hom- 
age and  service,  he  gives  none  at  all,  save  what  is 
purely  involuntary.  Instead  of  battling  against 
sin,  conscript  soldier  as  he  is  for  that  very  pur- 
pose, all  his  battling  is  in  sin's  favor.  Can  he  tell 
of  one  single  act  of  cordial  obedience  .''  Not  one. 
Is  there  one  stricken  field,  one  fortification,  one 
standard,  one  spear  even,  of  the  enemy  which  he 
has  carried  or  heartily  attempted  to  carry  }  Not 
one.  He  is  a  subject  of  the  great  King  —  but  an 
unwilling  and  disloyal  one.  He  is  under  God's 
scepter,  and  cannot  get  from  under  it  ;  but  he 
does  not  follow  its  pointings  nor  sway  his  path 
according  to  its  pressure,  its  heavy  pressure  even. 
Perhaps  he  hates  it,  rails  at  it,  spits  upon  it, 
shoots  an  arrow  at  it,  goes  against  it  at  full  charge 
and  with  grinded  spear.  There  always  have  been, 
and  still  are,  some  such  awful  persons.  But  most 
are  persons  who  forget,  neglect,  and  quietly  warp 
themselves  away  from  their  duty  as  subjects. 
They  do  not  so  much  set  out  to  break  the  laws  of 
God  as  to  please  themselves  ;  not  so  much  to  please 
themselves  on  the  whole  as  to  please  themselves 
for  the  present.  They  mo-dSi  postponement.  They 
do  not  mean  everlasting  defiance,  or  even  everlast- 
ing neglect,  of  God.     The  Great  Scepter  shall  not 


78  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

always  be  overlooked.  Shortly  even  its  most  deli- 
cate pointings  shall  be  attended  to,  as  well  as  its 
heavy  pressures.  Such  is  their  vague  or  distinct 
purpose.  And  yet  at  this  present  the  mildest 
name  for  them  is,  insubordijiate  and  disloyal  sub- 
jects. 

And  so  it  becomes  necessary  for  men  to  be 
threatened  ajid  disciplined  subjects.  Insubordina- 
tion and  disloyalty  in  any  monarchy  that  means 
to  stand  cannot  be  permanently  allowed.  It  is  of 
too  much  consequence  that  the  sovereign  author- 
ity of  God  should  be  upheld,  for  Him  to  allow 
these  wayward  creatures  on  earth  to  flaunt,  or 
quietly  maintain,  their  destructive  waywardness. 
With  all  His  tenderness  and  mercifulness,  He 
does  not  allow  it.  Because  He  is  tender  and  good 
He  does  not  allow  it.  He  is  obliged  to  speak 
sternly  and  warn  of  dire  consequences.  See,  He 
is  pointing  the  fractious  to  the  prisons  of  His 
empire ;  see.  He  partly  draws  from  its  scabbard 
the  sword  that  is  on  His  thigh  that  something  of 
its  terrible  gleam  may  come  to  the  eye  of  the 
hardened  and  hardening  offender.  Let  men  put 
their  faces  close  to  the  Scriptures.  Here,  any 
day  they  choose,  they  may  see  a  hand  such  as 
pointed  out  doom  in  the  halls  of  Belshazzar,  point- 


MEN  AS  HIS  SUBJECTS.  yc) 

ing  along  the  downward  path  before  them  ;  and, 
followhig  the  direction  with  their  peering  eyes, 
they  may  see  in  the  distance,  imbedded  in  hirid 
Hght,  the  frowning  and  windowless  walls  of  the 
wofulest  penitentiary  that  ever  threatened  the 
malefactors  of  any  kingdom.  Here,  any  day  they 
choose,  they  may  look  up  and  see  the  white  robes 
of  the  Most  High  changing  to  the  harness  of  the 
warrior  ;  and  that  sword  which  had  hung  scab- 
barded  at  His  side,  as  if  a  mere  State  form,  begin- 
ning to  show  its  keen  double-edge  below  the 
knotted  fingers  of  a  giant.  God  sends  these  ap- 
paritions upon  them  as  so  many  threats.  Mean- 
while, He  sends  messengers,  some  of  them  with 
eloquent  lips,  and  some  with  stern  faces  and 
thonged  hands  (you  may  call  these  last  trials), 
to  keep,  if  possible,  the  matter  from  coming  to 
the  dread  point  of  the  prison  and  the  sword. 
That  disloyal  subject,  by  some  means,  must  be- 
come loyal  ;  and,  by  the  pain  of  present  sorrow 
and  the  fear  of  future  ill,  must  be  trained  out  of 
his  evil  ways  and  evil  heart.  This  is  the  secret 
of  the  hardships  and  appeals  that  men  are  now 
having  from  God  their  King  ;  this  the  secret  of 
the  visions  they  get  from  the  high  places  of 
Scripture  of  yonder  fearful  prison  and  yonder 
flam  in  2:  sword. 


V 
HIS    SERVICE    THE    BEST. 


V. 

HIS  SERVICE   THE  BEST. 

'T^O  persons  trained  as  most  Americans  are, 
-^  the  idea  of  sustaining  the  relation  of  a  ser- 
vant is  not  apt  to  be  very  acceptable.  The  word 
sounds  harshly.  It  speaks  of  inferiority,  depend- 
ence, compulsion.  We  think  we  see  yokes,  bur- 
dens, and  humiliations  in  it.  Our  choice  is  to- 
ward freedom,  independence,  sovereignty  ;  and 
through  all  our  lives  these  are  the  shining  points 
toward  which  our  hopes  and  struggles  tend. 

Still,  in  certain  circumstances,  men  do  not 
shrink  from  either  the  name  or  the  fact  of  service. 
Indeed,  they  accept  both  with  the  greatest  alac- 
rity. Everything  depends  on  who  the  party  is  to 
whom  the  service  is  to  be  paid.  The  proudest 
officials  of  the  country  do  not  hesitate  to  call 
themselves  the  servants  of  the  American  People, 
and  commonly  are  ambitious  to  wear  the  name  as 
long  as  possible.  The  highest  personages  of 
England  —  the  earls,  the  dukes,  the  prime  minis- 
ter —  are  free  to  call   themselves   the  servants  of 


84  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  Queen,  and  in  so  doing  dream  not  of  doing 
themselves  any  indignity.  The  Apostles  rejoiced 
in  being  called  the  servants  of  God  and  of  Jesus, 
and  even  were  glad  to  call  themselves  the  servants 
of  the  church  for  Jesus's  sake.  Provided  the  mas- 
ter be  sufficiently  great  and  worthy,  men  can 
come  to  count  his  service  an  honor  and  privilege. 
Happy  for  us  that  it  is  so  !  For  it  has  fallen 
to  the  lot  of  us  all  to  be  servants.  It  is  fated  — 
we  cannot  escape  from  it.  It  is  our  natural  con- 
dition —  we  cannot  get  out  of  it.  We  may  our- 
selves bear  the  name  of  employer  and  master  ; 
we  may  have  many  under  us  ;  we  may  every  day 
of  our  lives  say  to  one,  Go,  and  he  goeth  ;  to 
another,  Come,  and  he  cometh  ;  and  to  our  ser- 
vant. Do  this,  and  he  doeth  it  ;  yet,  on  inquiry  it 
will  be  found  that,  like  the  Centurion,  we  ourselves 
are  under  authority,  and  that  the  same  service 
which  is  given  to  us  we  in  turn  are  bound  to  give 
to  another.  Accordingly  it  is  said  that  Christ 
took  on  Him  the  form  of  a  servant,  and  was  made 
in  the  likeness  of  men.  Disguise  it  as  men  may 
by  an  adroit  use  of  terms,  from  the  lowest  to  the 
highest  of  them,  they  are  all  out  at  service —  shut 
up  to  this  condition  by  the  appointment  of  Provi- 
dence and  the  necessity  of  their  natures. 


HIS  SERVICE    THE  BEST.  85 

But,  while  we  arc  helpless  as  to  the  fact  of  ser- 
vice, we  are  not  helpless  as  to  the  kind  of  it.  We 
can  choose  our  masters.  It  lies  altogether  with 
us  to  say  whether  we  will  serve  God,  or  serve  that 
rebel  angel  called  Satan,  who,  with  many  evil 
spirits  under  him,  has  set  up  a  rival  kingdom. 
This  is  the  extent  of  our  liberty.  We  cannot 
choose  between  service  and  no-service  :  only  be- 
tween this  service  and  that.  We  cannot  choose 
between  master  and  no-master  :  only  between  the 
master  who  is  from  above  and  the  master  who  is 
from  beneath.  If  Elijah  had  been  disposed,  he 
could  not  have  said  to  the  Jews,  Choose  you  this 
day  whether  you  will  serve  ;  the  most  he  could  do 
was  to  say,  "  Choose  you  this  day  zvhom  you  will 
serve."  And,  really,  this  is,  after  all,  as  much  lib- 
erty as  a  wise  man  would  care  to  have.  He  is  not 
frightened  at  the  name  of  servant.  He  knows 
service  may  be  a  most  sweet  and  magnificent 
thing  ;  so  much  so  that  the  proudest  men  can 
covet  it,  and  boast  of  it,  and  cling  to  it  as  the 
highest  of  honors.  All  he  wants  to  know  is.  Who 
is  to  be  master.  And  being  told  that  it  is  One 
who  has  no  equal  anywhere.  One  whose  wisdom 
is  above  every  wisdom  ;  whose  throne  is  above 
every  throne  ;  whose  glory  is  above  every  earthly 


86  PARISH  CTTRTSTIANITY. 

thing  known  by  this  name,  he  is  satisfied.  He 
wants  no  more  liberty  and  honorable  badge  than 
are  involved  in  the  service  of  such  a  Being.  It  is 
not  only  better  to  serve  Him  than  it  is  to  serve 
elsewhere,  but  it  is  infinitely  better  to  serve  Him 
than  it  is  not  to  serve  at  all  —  easier,  safer,  hap- 
pier, thriftier,  more  honorable. 

But,  the  choice  to  all  of  us  is  actually,  not  be- 
tween the  service  of  God  and  no-service,  but  be- 
tween the  service  of  God  and  that  of  Satan.  It  is 
when  we  contrast  these  two  services,  therefore, 
that  we  come  at  the  true  merits  of  that  great 
question  which  trembles  at  the  heart,  if  not  on  the 
lips,  of  every  thoughtful  hearer  of  the  Gospel, 
Whom  shall  I  choose  to  serve  .-* 

In  the  old  countries  the  servants  of  great  fam- 
ilies dress  in  livery.  One  house  is  marked  by  a 
blue  uniform,  another  by  a  red,  another  by  a  green  ; 
whatever  color,  material,  and  badge,  the  head  of 
the  house  may  choose,  is  worn  by  all  his  servants. 
So  that  when  one  of  them  is  seen  abroad,  the  peo- 
ple can  say,  "  There  goes  a  servant  of  the  Earl  of 
Derby,"  "  This  is  the  Duke  of  Devonshire's  man  ; " 
"  That  man  serves  the  Marquis  of  Nottingham," 
as  the  case  may  be.  The  very  dress  explains 
whose  servant  he   is.      As    he  walks   down    the 


ins  SERVICE    THE   REST.  Sj 

Strand  it   is  as  if  he  were  labeled  with  his  mas- 
ter's name  in  capitals. 

Down  the  great  thoroughfare  of  this  life  we  are 
walking  as  liveried  servants  —  the  servants  of 
God  in  their  livery,  the  servants  of  Satan  in  theirs. 
Each  uniform  is  striking.  One  is  a  life  of  out- 
ward good  works  ;  the  other  a  life  of  outward  evil. 
One  is  white  and  fine  and  rich  as  looms  never 
wove  ;  the  other  dark  and  coarse  and  poor  as 
never  grew  under  the  flight  of  the  shuttle.  Some- 
times the  dark  livery  appears  more  or  less  bleached 
or  painted,  and  sometimes  the  white  is  badly 
soiled  ;  so  that,  to  a  careless  view,  the  best  of  the 
one  does  not  seem  to  differ  much  from  the  worst 
of  the  other.  But  really,  in  material,  texture,  and 
color,  they  are  opposites.  Hold  up  side  by  side  a 
life  of  self-seeking  and  a  life  of  good-doing  —  how 
widely  they  differ  to  any  sound  eye  !  Contrast  a 
life  of  godliness  with  one  of  ungodliness,  a  life  of 
conscience  and  principle  with  one  of  impulse  — 
how  fair  and  white  the  one  on  the  dark  back- 
ground of  the  other  !  A  fairer  and  more  service- 
able livery  never  was  seen  than  is  the  Bible  put  in 
practice  ;  it  is  a  robe  woven  and  cut  in  Heaven 
by  Divine  hands.  A  livery  more  uncomely  and 
uncomfortable  never  was  seen  than  that  which 
Satan  makes  and  expects  all  his  servants  to  wear. 


88  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Is  it  an  honorable  service?  This  question  is 
very  apt  to  be  asked  by  men  of  the  world  when  a 
given  service  is  proposed  to  tliem.  Will  it  bring 
respect  and  praise  and  influence  ;  or  must  it  in- 
volve a  sacrifice  in  these  respects  ?  "  Friend,  it 
is  the  service  of  yo7ir  Country  —  that  great  coun- 
try that  your  fathers  anciently  planted  in  heroism 
and  conscience  ;  that  great  country  whose  domain 
is  so  broad,  whose  millions  are  so  many,  and  on 
whose  fate  the  whole  world  is  turning  anxious 
eyes  as  the  pivot  of  the  present  age,  not  to  say 
of  distant  ages  —  this  is  the  high  and  honorable 
work  you  are  asked  to  undertake.  If  you  serve 
well  you  shall  have  the  best  words,  the  best 
thanks,  and  the  admiration  of  all  patriots  that 
know  you.     Will  you  not  take  the  situation  ?  " 

When  I  am  able  to  speak  to  a  man  after  this 
manner  in  regard  to  the  service  offered,  I  have  a 
strong  hold  on  him.  Not,  however,  such  a  hold 
as  I  ought  to  have  on  you,  to  whom  is  offered  a 
voluntary  service  of  God.  For  I  can  say  to  you 
that,  in  the  sight  of  God,  and  of  every  reasonable 
man,  there  is  no  service  so  honorable  as  this  by  a 
whole  heaven  of  difference.  He  who  wants  in  his 
favor  the  high  thoughts  and  good  words  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  let  him  take  this  offered  situation. 


HIS  SERVICE    THE   BEST.  89 

He  who  covets  the  praise  of  holy  angels  and  all 
perfected  spirits  —  thrones,  dominions,  principal- 
ities, and  powers  in  hosts  beyond  count,  and  glory 
beyond  thought  —  let  him  join  them  in  their  ser- 
vice :  for  glad  servants  are  they  all  to  God.  Who- 
ever wants  the  hearty  praise  of  good  men  here, 
the  secret  respect  of  the  bad,  and  the  high  com- 
mendations of  his  own  conscience,  let  him  faith- 
fully take  and  wear  the  livery  of  the  Heavenly 
Master.  But  if  he  wants  disrespect  and  dishonor 
with  all  these  parties,  then  let  him  put  on  the 
livery  of  Satan.  Satan  himself  shall  despise  him 
while  using  him.  His  own  heart  shall  put  him  to 
shame.  The  inmost  conviction  of  every  thinking 
man  shall  cry  out  at  his  folly  and  sin. 

In  both  the  rival  services  there  is  work  to  be 
done  and  there  are  tools  of  work.  But  the  work 
and  tools  in  the  two  cases  are  altogether  different. 
When  the  prodigal  takes  service  it  is  to  keep 
swine.  When  the  chimney-sweep  takes  service  it 
is  with  smutted  broom  to  climb  through  smutted 
chimneys.  But  when  one  takes  his  country  for 
employer  and  master,  it  may  be  with  beaming 
sword  to  do  famous  and  patriotic  battle  that  shall 
sound  like  trumpets  for  justice  and  liberty  through 
all   chapters  of  history  ;  or,  it  may   be,  with  the 


90  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

thoughts  and  words  of  statesmen  to  steer  an  em- 
pire illustriously  through  troublous  seas.  Very 
different  sorts  of  work  and  tools  of  works  are 
these  !  But  I  can  show  you  a  greater  contrast, 
if,  in  your  thoughts,  you  will  for  a  moment  help 
me  to  put  the  service  of  God  by  the  side  of  the 
service  of  Satan.  The  work  of  the  one  is  sublime 
virtue  ;  it  is  to  get  goodness  for  ourselves,  give 
goodness  and  happiness  to  our  fellows,  and  glorify 
our  Maker.  In  a  word,  it  is  to  put  in  practice 
the  white  and  sublime  code  of  our  holy  religion. 
And  this  high  work  is  done  by  means  to  suit.  It 
is  done  by  a  faultless  and  inspired  Bible  ;  by 
prayer,  looking  up  with  transfigured  face  and 
beating  highways  from  earth  to  Heaven  ;  by  sab- 
baths, sanctuaries,  ministries, from  Heaven  coming 
and  to  Heaven  tending — surely  the  noblest  im- 
plements for  the  noblest  work  !  But  the  work 
which  Satan  gives  his  servants  lies  quite  at  the 
other  end  of  the  scale.  It  is  to  break  down  char- 
acter instead  of  building  it  up  ;  it  is  to  bedim  the 
government  of  God  instead  of  giving  it  new  pres- 
tige ;  it  is  to  exasperate  the  moral  ail  of  the  com- 
munity instead  of  abating  it  ;  it  is  errors,  wrongs, 
sins,  vices,  crimes  in  all  their  endless  variety. 
And  the  tools  of  this  work  are  no  better  ;  such  as 


HIS  SERVICE    THE   BEST.  9 1 

native  depravity,  habits  of  sin,  willful  ignorance, 
abuse  of  conscience,  corrupting  example,  evil  men 
speaking  or  writing,  and  the  desperate  Satan  him- 
self. In  short,  the  business  of  the  prodigal  is  to 
feed  swine,  and  to  do  it  with  husks  and  unclean 
vessels. 

While  doing  their  work,  how  differently  men  in 
diiTerent  services  fare  !  One  servant  is  treated 
like  a  brother  or  son ;  he  has  the  kindest  words, 
fairest  looks,  most  generous  keeping.  Another  is 
treated  like  a  slave.  His  food  is  the  coarsest  and 
scantiest.  His  lodgings  are  a  den.  He  carries 
forward  his  work  amid  frowns  and  stripes  and 
chains.  These  are  the  extreme  states  of  service 
as  between  man  and  man  ;  but  they  represent 
very  well  the  service  that  always  obtains  between 
man  and  the  two  great  invisible  Powers.  The 
workmen  of  Satan  are  always  bondmen,  and 
treated  as  such.  They  are  lodged  in  the  open  air, 
are  exposed  to  all  tempests  that  an  angry  climate 
sends  abroad,  are  shelterless  as  to  all  the  judg- 
ments and  wraths  of  God.  They  feed  on  the 
wind  ;  nothing  truly  solid  and  nutritious  is  pro- 
vided for  their  hungry  and  immortal  natures  ;  call 
it  mere  wind,  chaff,  and  husks  of  hollow  hopes  and 
transient  selfish  gfratifications  that  is  doled  out  to 


92  PARISH  CHRTSTIANITY. 

them  by  their  hard  master  day  by  day.  He  abuses 
them,  tyrannizes  over  them,  scourges  them,  loads 
them  with  gaUing  chains.  Oli,  there  is  no  domin- 
ion so  severe  and  capricious  as  that  of  an  unsanc- 
tified  and  ungoverned  heart  !  But  if  any  will  be 
the  servants  of  God  they  shall  serve  after  the  man- 
ner of  sons.  They  shall  have  fair  shelter  and 
generous  fare,  and  loving  gentleness  to  the  ut- 
most. Against  nights  and  storms  God  hides  all 
His  workmen  in  the  secret  of  His  pavilion  ; 
against  all  hurt  from  the  government  of  God  or 
from  men,  they  are  as  safe  as  if  already  in  Heaven. 
While  at  their  shining  work  their  better  natures 
are  nourished  to  the  utmost  by  food  of  heavenly 
grace  and  truth.  Their  satisfactions  are  solid  and 
enduring.  No  master  so  forbearing  and  gentle  as 
theirs  —  no  service  so  full  of  sunshine  and  liberty 
and  present  profit. 

Such  are  the  collaterals  of  the  two  sorts  of  ser- 
vice. Now  see  the  contrast  between  their  conse- 
quences. As  the  day  of  life  closes  and  the  sun 
goes  down,  Sin  and  Satan  turn  paymasters,  and 
every  servant  of  theirs  receives  according  to  his 
work.  Never  fear  —  the  payment  will  be  prompt 
and  in  full.  Never  fear  —  the  servants  will  get 
their  wages  to  the  last  farthing.    But  xvhat  wages  ! 


HIS  SERVICE    THE   BEST.  93 

The  wages  of  sin  is  death.  The  exceeding  com- 
pensation which  will  be  paid  to  such  as  have  borne 
the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day  in  the  service  of 
Satan  will  be  to  go  and  dwell  with  him  in  wrath 
and  ruin  forever.  Open  widely  your  ears,  ye  men 
of  profit  and  loss — I  say,  such  will  be  the  bitter 
consideration  that  sinners  will  get  for  the  bitter 
work  they  have  done.  Let  those  whom  this  mat- 
ter concerns  sum  up  these  wages  and  see  whether 
they  are  sufficient  to  pay  for,  perhajDS,  threescore 
and  ten  years  of  labor. — The  Divine  service,  too, 
has  its  wages.  The  same  closing  of  the  day  that 
pays  off  the  servants  of  Satan  with  death,  pays  off 
the  servants  of  God  with  life.  They  have  worn 
His  livery,  they  have  wrought  His  work ;  and 
now,  at  last,  as  the  sun  sinks  out  of  sight,  and 
they  leave  the  vineyard  where  they  have  planted 
and  cultivated  goodness  for  themselves,  grace  for 
their  neighbors,  and  glory  for  Almighty  God,  they 
receive  each  his  stupendous  penny  a  day,  in  the 
shape  of  an  endless  Heaven.  On  the  one  hand, 
the  sinner  reaps  corruption  from  his  sowing  to  the 
flesh  ;  on  the  other,  the  saint  reaps  life  everlasting 
from  his  sowing  to  the  Spirit. 

Behold  the  two  services  !     What  a  contrast  as 
to    livery,   and    honor,   and    fare,    and    work,   and 


94  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

wages  !  Evidently,  there  is  much  to  choose  be- 
tween the  two,  —  could  not  well  be  more.  You 
cannot  serve  both  masters  at  once,  and  must  serve 
one  of  them.  Which  shall  it  be,  you  that  can 
discriminate  between  things  that  differ .-'  There 
would  seem  to  be  little  room  for  hesitation  ;  for 
the  difference  between  the  two  services  is  no 
mole-hill.  To  the  heavenly  service  belong  the 
glorious  wages,  the  excellent  work,  the  generous 
treatment,  the  high  honor,  the  snowy  livery.  To 
the  other  belong  the  evil  appearance,  the  evil 
fame,  the  evil  deeds,  the  evil  heart,  the  evil  fare, 
and  the  evil  wage  of  that  apostate  spirit  who 
stands  as  master  and  paymaster. 

Yes.  A  very  slender  inspection  of  these  two 
rival  services  shows  a  mighty  difference  between 
them  in  point  of  eligibility.  But  this  difference  is 
really  far  greater  than  we  can  now  see.  The  ser- 
vice of  God  is  far  better,  and  that  of  Satan  far 
worse  than  can  now  be  realized  by  the  most  care- 
ful and  candid  critic  of  the  two.  In  this  world 
the  better  service  is  designedly  left  somewhat 
under  a  cloud,  and  amid  surroundings  of  embar- 
rassment and  sacrifice,  in  order  to  try  the  mettle 
and  fidelity  of  men.  It  is  better,  fairer,  more 
prosperous,  honorable,  and  lucrative  than  it  seems 


HIS  SERVICE    7HE  BEST.  95 

to  be.  Those  who  embrace  it,  and  hold  fast  to  it 
in  these  days  of  its  comparative  shadow,  hard- 
ship, and  unpopularity,  will  at  last  find  themselves 
to  have  had  a  vastly  better  situation  than  they 
thought.  All  honor  to  the  man  who  stands  by 
the  right  side  when  it  is  in  the  minority  and  seems 
to  need  help !  All  honor  (and,  it  will  surely  be 
found,  all  profit  too)  to  the  man  who  puts  on  the 
white  livery  and  firmly  wears  it  in  these  days 
when  God  is  so  largely  brought  into  disrepute,  and 
when  men  even  try  to  crowd  Him  out  of  His  own 
world  by  means  of  His  own  works  !  He  shall  have 
his  compensation  when  the  veiled  and  struggling 
Cause  shall  throw  off  its  disguise,  and  the  Master, 
with  flashing  crown  and  scepter  shall  publicly 
travel  in  the  greatness  of  His  strength. 

Bind  yourself  out  to  this  great,  and  good,  and 
best  service.  If  there  is  any  indenture  stronger 
than  all  others,  put  to  it  your  hand  and  seal.  Now 
is  the  time  for  signing.  Now  great  situations  are 
being  offered.  By  all  means  promptly  accept 
them.  Not  so  much  that  God  needs  your  services 
as  that  you  need  to  serve.  You  need  the  honor 
and  the  profit  of  it  ;  you  need  the  salvation  and 
the  everlasting  righteousness  of  it.  Who  will  ac- 
cept that  collar  of  gold  which  is  also  the  badge  of 
the  highest  nobility  in  the  kingdom  of  God  1 


VI. 
HIS    GREAT    LAW. 


VI. 

HIS  GREAT  LAW. 

"TV  /TORE  stress  is  laid  in  the  Scriptures  on 
-^^ -*-  some  Divine  commands  than  on  others. 
Some  are  given  in  more  emphatic  and  pressing 
words.  Some  are  repeated  more  often.  Some 
are  hedged  about  with  graver  penalties.  Some 
have,  as  it  were,  an  index  finger  pointing  at  them 
from  the  margin,  or  an  exclamation  point  over- 
topping them  from  behind  ;  are  led  or  followed 
by  a  Behold,  or  by  a  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto 
yoji,  or  by  a  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear  let  him 
hear,  while  others  appear  in  less  rousing  forms 
of  statement. 

"  Master,  which  is  the  great  commandment  of 
the  law  }  "  The  answer  of  Jesus  to  this  question 
fully  recognizes  this  distinction  of  greater  and 
less  among  the  Divine  Commands.  Those  of  the 
first  table  are  compared  with  those  of  the  second, 
and  are  said  to  hold  the  first  place.  That  su- 
preme love  to  God  which  briefly  expresses  all  our 
duties  to  Him  is  a  matter   of  greater  importance 


lOO  PARTS//  C//R/STIAN/TY. 

than  that  disinterested  love  to  men  which  briefly 
expresses  all  our  duties  to  them.  Each  is  a  noble, 
but  one  is  of  a  higher  order  of  nobility  than  the 
other.  If  one  is  dukely  the  other  is  princely. 
The  traveler  finds  a  mountain  range  dividing  a 
continent,  piercing  the  sky  with  its  invisible  sum- 
mits, gathering  showers  and  rivers  for  the  plains 
below,  and  garnishing  its  green  slopes  with  the 
beauties,  sublimities,  and  fruits  of  all  climates  : 
and  from  this  prodigious  sweep  of  Andes  he  sees 
jutting  out  a  single  spur  of  green  pastoral  hills. 
In  the  sight  of  God  the  one  is  the  law,  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  soul,  and  mind, 
and  strength,  and  the  other  is  the  law.  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself. 

Do  we  know  how  great  God  is  .-'  Do  we  know 
how  small  man  is  !  Let  the  worth,  the  dignity, 
the  splendor,  the  might,  the  duration,  of  the  One 
be  placed  in  one  scale  of  a  balance  ;  and  man, 
with  all  he  has  and  is,  and  can  be  supposed  to  be 
or  to  have,  in  the  other — say,  is  there  an  equi- 
librium 1  Is  there  a  feather,  even,  in  the  human 
part  of  those  scales .-'  God  is  the  object  of  the 
first  table  of  the  law,  man  the  object  of  the  sec- 
ond. The  one  proposes  to  guard  the  interests  of 
an  infinite  Being  —  the  other  to  guard   the  inter- 


HIS   GREAT  LAW.  lOI 

ests  of  a  number  of  worms.  Put  all  our  human 
interests  together  and  they  are  a  mere  bubble 
compared  with  those  Heavenly  Andes,  the  inter- 
ests of  God  ;  and  he  who  attempts  to  crush  the 
bubble  commits  a  very  small  fault  as  compared 
with  him  who  tries  to  overturn  the  mountain. 

Other  things  being  equal,  the  command  that 
comes  to  us  with  the  most  impressive  clearness 
and  authority  is  plainly  the  one  which  we  shall  be 
most  to  blame  for  neglecting.  A  haze  of  ques- 
tion and  discussion  has  always  hung  about  the 
second  table  ;  but  the  .meaning  and  reasonable- 
ness of  the  first  are  two  magnificent  intuitions  to 
all  theists.  Among  those  who  refuse  to  entertain 
an  angel,  those  are  the  most  guilty  to  whom  his 
angelic  character  is  most  plain  ;  and  if  there  is 
some  one  to  whom  the  celestial  visitor  shows 
himself  without  that  mask  of  human  flesh  and 
dress  in  which  he  appears  to  others,  and  his 
starry  hair  and  golden  plumage  flash  in  unveiled 
magnificence  on  the  sight,  then  that  is  the  man 
whose  rude  Begone  shall  most  anger  Heaven. 

The  virtue  that  has  God  for  its  object  is  the 
root-vi}i?ic.  As  every  tree  has  its  root  containing 
in  itself  the  essential  character  of  the  whole  tree  ; 
as  every  stalk  of  grain  came  from  a  seed  that  in- 


102  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

eluded  in  itself  the  essential  nature  of  the  whole 
plant ;  so  religion  has  a  certain  radical  and  ele- 
mentary religion  from  which  all  other  parts  take 
their  rise.  This  first  instalment  and  source  of 
religion  is  piety.  Religion  never  begins  in  the 
second  table  —  never  begins  in  morality.  The 
first  form  of  goodness  noticed  in  men  is  a  going 
forth  of  the  soul  toward  God  in  a  seeking, 
humble,  repentant,  way.  "  Against  Thee  have  I 
sinned  and  done  this  evil  in  Thy  sight."  Fellow- 
men  and  their  sphere  are,  at  this  stage,  altogether 
in  the  background.  God  and  His  offended  maj- 
esty stooping  to  a  reconciliation  with  His  creat- 
ure is  the  great  object  in  the  field  of  view.  And 
then,  just  as  soon  as  the  soul  has  settled  into 
right  relations  toward  Him  who  is  the  great  cen- 
ter and  pivot  of  religion,  these  right  relations  God- 
ward  begin  to  sprout  into  all  manner  of  right  rela- 
tions manward.  He  who  loves  God  will  love  his 
brother  also.  Morality  always  follows  and  grows 
out  of  piety,  and  it  never  grows  out  of  anything 
else.  It  is  true  that  there  are  many  instances 
of  what  is  called  morality  which  are  not  led  or 
accompanied,  or  even  followed,  by  anything  that 
can  be  called  piety.  But  such  morality  is  not  the 
thing  meant  in  this  second  table  of  the  Law.     It 


HIS  GREAT  LAW.  IO3 

is  merely  the  outside  of  it.     The  shell  contains 
no  kernel  —  the  body  no  soul. 

But  why  assert  the  superiority  of  the  first  table 
—  why  endeavor  to  prove  it .?  Because  it  is  a 
matter  having  large  practical  bearings  ;  because 
to  lose  sight  of  it,  as  is  very  often  done,  is  to  hide 
from  our  souls  the  worst  part  of  their  sinfulness, 
the  nature  of  religion,  and  the  mode  of  gaining  it. 
To  hear  the  talking  and  to  read  the  writing  of 
many  persons,  one  would  suppose  that  man  is  the 
only  being  in  the  universe  —  at  least  the  only 
one  with  whom  we  have  any  concern.  They  know 
of  no  goodness  but  honesty,  industry,  neighborli- 
ness,  perhaps  something  that  passes  for  philan- 
thropy. Amid  all  their  praise  of  such  things,  not 
a  word,  or  but  a  word,  falls  from  them  in  behalf  of 
fear,  love,  and  obedience  toward  their  Maker.  Mo- 
rality is  the  beginning,  middle,  and  end  of  their 
Gospel.  As  lecturers,  as  preachers,  as  conversa- 
tionalists, philanthropy  is  never  out  of  their 
mouths,  and  piety  is  never  in  them.  But  why 
speak  of  these  when  almost  every  worldly  man 
one  meets,  forgets,  or  has  never  yet  learned,  that 
our  duties  to  our  fellow-men  are  but  a  small  part 
of  our  duties,  and  thinks  that  when  he  has  shown 
himself  outwardly  moral  he  has  gone  triumphantly 


I04  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

through  all  the  commandments  !  Overlookmg  the 
fact  that  there  is  a  first  table  of  the  law  as  well  as 
a  second,  and  that  this  first  table  is  by  far  the  most 
important  of  the  two,  he  thinks  himself  hardly  sin- 
ner enough  to  be  called  to  repentance,  much  less 
to  be  plied  with  threats  of  complete  destruction. 
With  this  oversight,  religion  to  him  is  nothing 
more,  at  the  most,  than  an  increase  in  the  quality 
and  number  of  his  moralities  ;  a  carrying  somewhat 
further  the  manward  sort  of  excellence  which  he 
supposes  himself  already  to  possess,  rather  than  a 
radical  reformation  of  character  and  relations  with 
reference  to  God.  And  should  he  attempt  to  gain 
this  mistaken  sort  of  religion,  it  would  be  alto- 
gether in  the  natural  way,  instead  of  the  supernat- 
ural ;  having  nothing  to  do  with  a  Mediator,  and 
nothing  with  faith,  and  nothing  with  prayer,  and 
nothing  with  the  Holy  Ghost.  What  a  calamity 
to  fall  into  this  threefold  pit !  How  dreadful  to 
think  himself  a  small  sinner  when  he  is  a  great 
one  ;  to  think  conversion  is  what  it  is  not,  and  to 
seek  salvation  by  means  which  can  never  obtain 
it !  Hence  the  importance  of  calling  attention  to 
the  fact  that  the  second  table  of  the  law  is  the 
second  table  ;  that  it  is  neither  the  whole  of  the 
commandment  nor  the  chief  part  of  it ;  that  our 


ins  GREAT  LAW.  I05 

duties  to  God  have  a  mighty  primacy  in  dignity 
and  consequence  over  those  we  owe  to  our  fellow- 
men  ;  and  that  though  one  should  embellish  him- 
self with  every  conceivable  propriety  of  behavior 
and  disposition  toward  the  members  of  his  own 
family,  and  toward  his  own  neighbor,  and  toward 
his  own  countrymen,  and  toward  all  the  race  to 
which  he  belongs,  he  would  still,  if  making  no  ac- 
count of  his  obligation  to  the  Supreme  Being,  be 
a  most  depraved  and  deformed  object  in  the  view 
of  Heaven,  and  altogether  unworthy  to  be  called  a 
religious  man. 

In  speaking  thus  I  do  not  wish  to  carry  the 
idea  that  duties  toward  man  are  not  of  great  im- 
portance. They  umst  be  done.  We  cannot  enter 
Heaven  —  can  scarcely  inhabit  earth  —  without 
them.  They  are  the  charm  of  this  world ;  the 
foliage  of  its  trees,  the  grass  of  its  plains,  the 
flowers  of  its  gardens,  and  the  cheery  gleam  and 
song  of  its  running  waters.  It  is  only  when 
they  are  compared  with  duties  toward  God,  that 
we  can  venture  to  speak  of  them  as  being  small. 
But  in  that  connection  we  are  bound  so  to  speak 
of  them.  So  far  from  being  out  of  place,  this 
way  of  speaking  is  Scriptural,  and  even  necessary, 
considering  how  strongly  the  current  of  tenden- 


Io6  PARISH  CHRTSTIANITY. 

cies  in  society  is  toward  an  exalting  of  morality  at 
the  expense  of  piety.  And  so  I  have  sought  to 
remind  you  that  man-duties  are  but  dwarfs  by 
the  side  of  God-duties  ;  that  the  green  pastoral 
mountain  we  admire  is  but  a  fertile  spur  and  ava- 
lanche from  the  great  continental  Andes  of  relig- 
ion ;  that  what  the  royal  sun  is  to  the  greenness, 
smiles,  and  fruitage  of  a  landscape,  such  is  piety 
to  morality  —  all  beautiful,  but  the  one  the  cause 
of  the  others,  and  above  them  by  a  whole  radius 
of  the  heavens. 

Does  it  seem  to  us  that  we  are  not  great  sin- 
ners }  The  current  language  of  Scripture  and  re- 
ligious persons  about  the  sinfulness  of  men  —  does 
it  seem  inapplicable,  at  least,  to  ourselves  ;  and  do 
we  set  it  down  as  a  sort  of  sacred  hyperbole  ?  If 
so,  our  views  stand  in  pressing  need  of  correction. 
Our  mistake  probably  comes  largely  from  want 
of  duly  considering  what  is  the  g)-eat  command- 
ment of  the  law.  We  look  at  what  seem  our 
respectable  lives  manward  ;  and,  forgetting  the 
broad,  far-stretching  field  of  our  duties  God- 
ward,  we  indulge  our  hearts  in  the  idea  that  we 
are  rather  subjects  for  commendation  than  for 
censure.  What  a  delusion  !  Our  great  defects 
ind  sins  lying  in  that  field  of  which  God  is  the 


ins  GREAT  LAW.  107 

special  center,  and  on  which  our  backs  are  turned, 
are  invisible  to  us,  and  so  we  know  not  the  plague 
of  our  own  hearts,  but  think  ourselves  very  well- 
to-do  religiously,  while  really  we  are  poor  and 
wretched  and  blind  and  naked.  Have  we  such 
a  notion  of  religion  as  resolves  it,  for  all  practi- 
cal and  every-day  purposes,  into  little  more  than 
morality  ?  Are  we  apt  to  call  men  good  just  as 
soon  as  we  see  them  dealing  with  considerable 
fairness  and  kindness  with  men,  and  before  we 
have  asked  whether  they  are  dealing  fairly  and 
kindly  with  God  ?  Then  we  have  an  idea  which 
we  must  alter  —  must  alter.  Let  us  mistake  the 
nature  of  anything  else  —  let  us  call  the  tree  an 
idea,  or  the  star  a  lamp,  or  the  poison  best  food, 
—  but  let  us  not  mistake  the  nature  of  religion. 
The  fact  is  we  have  insensibly  turned  our  backs 
on  the  first  table  of  the  law,  and  so  to  us  a  God 
has  dropped  out  of  the  commandments.  Noth- 
ing but  man,  man,  is  visible  above  our  horizon. 
And  so  it  has  come  to  pass  that  all  virtue  seems 
to  point  and  gesture  and  speak  toward  the  visi- 
ble persons  and  homes  and  governments  of  this 
world. 

Ah,  friend,  this  will  never  do  !     Such  an  atti- 
tude is  simply  monstrous.     Like  Satan  himself,  it 


108  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

is  the  father  of  lies,  and  must  in  the  end  become 
the  father  of  destructions.  To  think  of  GOD 
being  overlooked  —  and  overlooked  in  favor  of 
men  !  O  Soul,  awake  and  spring  to  thy  feet  ! 
Turn  round  a  full  half  circle.  Look  upward  in- 
stead of  horizontally.  Bring  thy  face  to  front 
thy  Maker  and  that  Great  Commandment  which, 
with  shaded  eyes  and  glowing  face,  stands  gazing 
into  the  heavens.  Then  shalt  thou  have  a  juster 
view  of  the  nature  of  religion  :  and  instead  of 
thinking  that  men  may  reach  it  by  improving 
their  morality  a  little,  or  considerably,  thou  shalt 
realize  the  need  of  a  radical  change  of  character. 


VII. 
THIS    LAW    BROKEN. 


VII. 

THIS    LAW  BROKEN. 

'\'l  /"HEN  a  man  is  accustomed  to  blaspheme 
^  God  ;  to  denounce  religion  as  an  impos- 
ture ;  to  violently  assail  the  public  morals,  as 
some  do  without  calling  themselves  iniidels  ;  then 
he  can  have  no  doubt  that  he  is  a  breaker  of  the 
first  and  great  commandment.  He  does  not  love 
God  as  much  as  he  can.  He  does  not  love  Him 
at  all.  He  even  has  a  real  hostility  of  heart 
toward  Him.  The  bitter  feeling  is  so  great  and 
mastering,  that  he  can  no  more  doubt  its  exist- 
ence than  he  can  that  of  the  mountain  which 
keeps  him  half  of  the  day  in  its  shadow. 

Happily  most  persons  among  us  are  not  of  this 
sort.  If  they  are  at  heart  opposed  to  God,  the 
feeling  is  so  moderate  in  degree  or  so  covered  up 
by  circumstances,  that  it  easily  escapes  notice. 
Some  of  them  have  no  difficulty  in  seeing  that 
they  do  not  positively  love  God.  They  can  even 
be  readily  brought  to  see  that  the  general  course 
of  their  conduct  is  hostile  to  His  interests.     But 


112  PARISH  CHRTSTIANITY. 

when  they  come  to  be  charged  with  having  in 
their  hearts  a  positive  aversion  to  Him,  it  is  no 
easy  matter  for  them  to  allow  the  justice  of  the 
charge.  What  !  they  bear  ill-will  against  their 
Maker  !  They  cannot  believe  it.  They  are  con- 
scious of  no  such  feeling.  It  is  true  they  are  no 
saints  —  this  they  have  never  claimed  —  but  as 
to  being  at  heart  positively  hostile  to  religion  and 
its  Author,  in  even  the  least  degree,  they  are  al- 
most certain  this  cannot  be.  Yet  so  it  is.  Deep 
down  in  that  mysterious  heart  of  theirs,  there  is 
lurking  something,  which,  when  proper  tests  are 
applied  to  it,  will  turn  out  to  be  a  young  viper  of 
the  same  sort  with  that  which,  full-grown  in  the 
heart  of  Satan,  with  flaming  eyes  and  erected 
fang,  hisses  hatred  and  defiance  at  the  Person 
and  Government  of  God. 

What  shall  be  done  to  this  secret  enemy .-' 
Shall  it  be  allowed  to  hide  itself  till  it  becomes 
old  and  large  enough  to  give  a  mortal  wound  } 
Or,  shall  a  friendly  finger  be  raised  to  point  out 
the  foe  to  his  astonished  entertainer,  and  show 
the  basilisk  eye,  the  terrible  head,  and  the  already 
well-started  fang  }  Surely  common  humanity  de- 
mands the  last.  For,  however  much  he  may 
wish  it,  your  friend  cannot  himself  stretch  forth 


THIS  LA  W  BROKEN.  \  \  3 

his  hand  in  silence  and  suddenly  throw  out  the 
deadly  reptile  which  is  nestling  and  growing  deep 
down  in  your  heart.  This,  under  God,  must  be 
your  own  work.  Friends  can  show  the  enemy  — 
yourself  must  cast  him  out. 

Where  is  the  spear  of  Ithuriel,  whose  touch 
reveals  the  secret  Satan  .-*  How  shall  we  set  the 
lenses  and  mirrors  of  illustration  so  as  to  cast  a 
strong  light  on  the  young  viper  in  that  hiding- 
place  where  he  is  daily  making  some  advance  to 
a  terrible  maturity  .'' 

Consider  by  what  signs-  the  smaller  degrees 
of  hostile  feeling  toward  a  Dian  are  accustomed 
to  show  themselves.  If  one  finds  all  these  signs 
spotting  his  relation  to  God,  he  must  allow  him- 
self an  enemy  at  heart  of  the  Divine  Person  and 
Government. 

When  you  have  taken  up  ill-will  against  a 
neighbor  it  is  unpleasant  to  think  of  Jiini.  Per- 
haps, sometime,  you  are  having  a  flow  of  pleasant 
thoughts,  and,  unconsciously,  your  face  opens  and 
brightens  to  their  music  :  then,  if  the  idea  of  that 
neighbor  comes  suddenly  to  you,  what  a  chill  ! 
How  your  face  sinks  away  from  its  geniality ! 
Perhaps  you  give  up  a  day  to  special  enjoyment : 
instead  of  welcoming  the  idea  of  him  to  your 
8 


1 14  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

holiday,  do  you  not  do  your  best  to  keep  it  away 
as  that  holiday's  enemy  ? 

I  ask,  Do  you  know  of  anything  like  this  in 
your  attitude  toward  God  ?  Is  it  distasteful  to 
think  of  Him  ?  Do  you  avoid  it  as  often  as  you 
well  can,  and  when  you  cannot,  do  you  receive 
the  intruder  slowly  and  reluctantly,  and  send  it 
away  quickly  and  with  a  sense  of  relief  ?  Does 
the  thought  of  Him  go  to  dampen  your  enjoy- 
ment ?  Is  He  one  whom  to  recollect  often  in  a 
day  of  pleasure  would  be  to  turn  it  into  a  day  of 
gloom  ?  The  minister  of  the  Gospel  —  does  he 
find  it  a  harder  task  to  fix  your  mind  on  God  than 
the  advocate  of  some  vanity  does  to  get  your 
attention  to  his  bubble  ?  The  smallest  trifle  and 
even  vacuity  itself  —  is  this  welcomed  as  a  shelter 
against  a  sense  of  your  Maker  ?  Do  you  hastily 
crowd  away  such  a  sense  when  it  comes,  by  pleas- 
ure, by  business,  by  society,  by  whatever  you  can 
use  for  that  purpose  ?  Then  surely  you  have  one 
of  the  signs  of  a  heart  averse  to  God. 

When  you  have  taken  up  ill-will  against  your 
neighbor,  _j/^?/  are  inclined  to  avoid  Ids  society.  It 
does  not  please  you  to  make  one  of  a  company  to 
which  he  is  invited.  Perhaps  you  will  stay  away 
from  it  solely  on  his  account.     His  house  you  are 


THIS  LA  W  BROKEN.  I  1 5 

reluctant  to  enter ;  perhaps  you  do  not  even  care 
to  pass  it,  unless  to  do  so  is  a  matter  of  very  de- 
cided convenience.  If  you  see  him  coming,  your 
sudden  impulse  is  to  cross  to  the  other  side  ;  per- 
haps you  will  even  turn  into  another  street  to 
avoid  meeting  him. 

I  ask,  Is  there  anything  like  this  in  your  atti- 
tude toward  God  }  The  Sabbath  is  that  green 
spot  in  time  which  is  His  special  haunt.  He 
gives  it  more  of  His  presence  than  is  allowed  to 
all  the  other'  days  of  the  week.  Is  this  day,  in  its 
character  as  a  religious  day,  distasteful  to  you  .-* 
Of  course  it  is  welcome  to  you  as  a  day  of  rest ; 
and,  if  you  are  accustomed  to  seek  your  own 
pleasure  on  it,  you  welcome  as  a  day  of  self-indul- 
gence ;  but  what  I  ask  is,  Do  you  welcome  it  as  a 
day  of  religious  exercises.  —  The  sanctuary  is  that 
green  spot  in  space  which  is  God's  special  haunt. 
He  loves  the  gates  of  Zion  more  than  all  the 
dwellings  of  Jacob.  Is  the  house  of  God,  in  its 
character  as  a  religious  building,  distasteful  to 
you  .-'  Of  course  it  is  agreeable  as  a  place  where 
acquaintances  can  be  seen,  opinions  interchanged, 
and  the  whole  comm.unity  pass  in  review  in  its 
most  attractive  dress  ;  but  what  I  ask  is,  Do  you 
like   it  as  a  place  of   religious  exercises  .-•  —  The 


Il6  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

closet  is  another  of  God's  favorite  places.  How 
feel  you  toward  that  prayer  which  is  communion 
with  God  ?  Is  it  something  which  you  pass  alto- 
gether ?  If  not,  do  you  submit  to  it  as  a  burden 
which  you  have  been  taught  to  bear  from  child- 
hood and  so  must  not  omit  ?  Then  surely  you 
have  another  sign  of  a  heart  opposed  to  God. 
Then  surely  you  are  disinclined  to  His  society  — 
would  like  to  avoid  the  places  and  companies 
where  you  would  be  most  likely  to  meet  Him. 
You  have  the  impulse  to  turn  the  corner  when 
you  see  Him  coming  —  to  fetch  a  circuit  about 
His  house  lest  you  see  something  to  remind  you 
of  Him. 

When  you  have  taken  up  ill-will  against  a 
neighbor,  yoii  are  disposed,  in  case  of  any  contest 
betxvcen  him  and  others,  to  cast  yojir  sympathies 
on  the  side  of  his  opponents.  You  do  not  need 
to  inquire  and  find  that  his  arguments  are  the 
weakest,  if  it  is  merely  a  case  of  intellectual 
dispute.  Your  heart  starts  up  and  takes  side 
against  him,  quite  in  advance  of  any  movement  of 
your  reason.  Very  likely  your  heart  softly  and 
unconsciously  draws  your  reason  after  it.  You  do 
not  need  to  inquire  and  find  that  he  has  not  jus- 
tice on  his  side,  if  it  is  a  case  before  the  courts. 


THIS  LA  W  BROKEN.  \  \  7 

Your  impulses  declare  against  him  before  the  wit- 
nesses are  examined  and  the  judge  gives  the  law. 
You  do  not  need  to  inquire  and  find  that  he  is  the 
aggressor,  if  it  is  that  more  common  case  of  social 
strife  which  contents  itself  with  appealing  to  the 
bar  of  public  opinion.  Your  prejudices  take  the 
stand  and  begin  to  testify  against  him  before  the 
case  is  fairly  called  from  the  docket. 

And  now  I  ask,  Do  you  have  to  confess  a  simi- 
lar treatment  of  God  .-*  He  has  His  controversies. 
He  is  at  issue  with  the  world  on  the  ground  of 
truth,  on  the  ground  of  law,  and  on  the  ground  of 
natural  equity.  For  example,  He  maintains  that 
religion  is  the  best  policy  ;  the  world  maintains 
the  contrary.  He  claims  that  a  man's  life  consists 
not  in  the  abundance  of  the  things  he  possesses  ; 
the  world  claims  the  contrary.  He  will  have  it 
that  forgiveness  is  better  than  retaliation,  liberal- 
ity for  religious  objects  better  than  spare  giving, 
the  honor  that  comes  from  God  better  than  that 
coming  from  man  ;  the  world  will  have  it  that  just 
the  contrary  is  true.  I  ask,  On  which  side  in  this 
dispute  do  your  sympathies  place  themselves  .''  — 
There  is  also  a  case  before  the  chancery  of 
Heaven  in  which  God  is  the  complainant  and 
worldly  people  the  defendants.     He  charges  that 


Il8  PARISH  CHRIST/ANITY. 

they  have  treated  Him  in  such  a  way  as  to  make 
them  vastly  guilty  in  the  eye  of  the  law  and  de- 
serving of  vast  punishment.  They  plead  not 
guilty.  A  very  inoffensive  and  respectable  body 
of  people  are  they  :  not  perfect  indeed,  but  far 
from  being  such  monsters  that  in  them  there 
dwells  no  good  thing.  I  ask,  On  what  side  in  this 
suit  do  your  sympathies  at  once  take  stand  .-•  — 
God  is  at  issue  with  worldly  men,  too,  on  another 
ground.  He  claims  that  He  is  an  injured  being 
in  view  of  natural  equity  and  common  humanity. 
They,  on  the  contrary,  really  look  on  Him  as  the 
aggressor.  Does  He  not  disturb  them  continually 
with  the  outcries  of  His  messages,  utter  most  un- 
pleasant commands,  threaten  most  harsh  punish- 
ments, embitter  by  His  interferences  all  comfort 
in  the  courses  they  wish  to  take  .-'  In  this  contro- 
versy, too,  in  what  direction  flow  out  your  partiali- 
ties .■*  Before  your  judgment  has  had  chance  to 
interpose,  does  your  heart  pronounce  in  favor  of 
the  world  }  Does  the  world,  instead  of  God,  have 
the  support  of  your  instincts,  your  tendencies, 
your  impulses,  whatever  the  points  in  dispute  be- 
tween the  two  parties  .-*  Then  surely  you  have 
another  sign  of  a  heart  averse  to  God. 

When  you  have  taken  up  ill-will  against  your 


THIS  LAW  BROKEN.  I  I9 

Vi^x^ci^Qor,  you  feel  a  distaste  for  his  zvorks.  If  you 
fall  in  with  a  letter  written  by  him,  at  once  the 
bitterness  within  you  asks  leave  to  turn  your  back 
upon  it.  The  addresses  he  makes,  the  plans  he 
lays,  the  statements  he  pens  of  his  sentiments 
and  designs,  are  all  met  at  the  very  threshold 
with  disfavor.  You  may  not  openly  cavil ;  but 
the  inward  sourness  bids  you  be  on  the  outlook 
for  faults,  and  blind  to  merits.  You  may  not 
roughly  neglect ;  but  it  is  more  or  less  of  a  trial 
to  attend. 

And  now,  I  ask,  Is  there  anything  like  this  in 
your  treatment  of  God  }  The  Bible  is  His  letter. 
The  Bible  is  His  conversation  and  formal  oration. 
The  Bible  is  the  record  of  His  sentiments,  plans, 
and  doings.  Have  you  any  disrelish  for  this 
book  .-•  Is  it  self-denial  for  you  to  read  it }  Are 
your  readings  few  and  captious  .■'  Not  many 
shrink  from  the  splendid  literature  of  parts  of  the 
Holy  Book :  do  you  shrink  from  it  as  a  book  of 
religion  ?  Do  you  disrelish  other  books  which 
are  grounded  on  the  sacred  writings,  and  which 
have  for  their  object  to  illustrate  and  recommend 
those  writings  !  Then  surely  we  may  count  you 
as  having  still  another  sign  of  a  heart  opposed  to 
God.     And  were  we  unable  to  carry  our  inquiry 


I20  PARISH  CHRTSTIANTTY. 

any  further,  it  would  still  be  plain  that  you  hold  a 
place,  at  least  on  their  outskirts,  among  those  who 
wave  banners  and  shake  spears  against  the  Most 
High.  You  have  their  spirit  in  quality,  if  not  in 
degree. 

When  you  have  ill-will  against  your  neighbor, 
you  are  apt  to  disrelish  such  as  interest  themselves 
warmly  in  his  favor.  Their  zeal  identifies  them 
with  him.  In  time  they  come  to  excite  in  you 
the  same  sort  of  feeling.  It  is  plain  they  are 
ready  to  oppose,  in  some  form,  all  who  oppose 
him  :  and  this  your  heart  silently  recognizes  as 
the  same  thing  as  being  ready  to  oppose  you. 
They  speak  much  and  highly  of  him  :  and  what 
is  this  but  a  much  rasping  of  your  sore  heart, 
a  much  resisting  of  the  current  of  your  wishes 
and  partialities,  a  much  condemnation  of  your- 
self? They  stand  up  for  his  rights,  they  help 
him  in  his  plans,  they  treat  his  interests  as  if 
they  were  their  own  :  what  does  your  bitter  heart 
take  this  to  be  but  a  proclamation  against  your- 
self .''  So  you  naturally  come  to  feel  a  repugnance 
to  their  society  and  persons,  and  to  feel  drawn 
toward  those  whose  sympathies  are  more  like 
your  own. 

And  again  I  ask,  How  stand  you  affected  to- 


THIS  LAW  BROKEN.  121 

ward  the  devoted  friends  of  God  —  how  toward 
those  who  treat  Him  with  indifference  and  neg- 
lect ?  Is  there  a  conscious  shrinking  from  the 
one  class,  and  a  conscious  inclination  toward  the 
other  ?  Is  the  society  of  the  one  irksome,  and 
that  of  the  other  a  liberty  ?  To  see  tJiose,  feeling 
and  speaking  and  working  for  God  as  if  they  were 
one  with  Him,  does  this  jar  on  your  feelings  —  to 
see  these,  feeling  and  speaking  and  working  for 
the  world  as  if  one  with  it,  does  this  refresh  you 
like  native  breezes  ?  Then  surely  I  may  still  hold 
fast  to  my  refrain,  and  call  on  you  to  confess  that 
you  have  still  another  sign  of  a  heart  averse  to 
God.  The  ship  is  becoming  flecked  all  over  with 
signals  that  she  carries  the  enemy  beneath  her 
quiet  decks.  It  is  getting  to  be  very  plain  that 
what  hides  in  your  heart  is  really  a  viper. 

When  you  have  ill-will  against  a  neighbor, 
you  are  uneasy  at  seeing  signs  of  his  prosperity, 
and  find  it  not  ungrateful  to  see  signs  of  his  ad- 
versity. Are  his  meadows  green  }  Do  great 
sheaves  stand  thickly  on  his  harvest  ground  .'' 
Does  every  year  add  fertile  acres  to  his  domain, 
flocks  to  his  laughing  pastures,  and  beauty  to  his 
home  .''  With  that  ill-will  in  your  heart,  this  ap- 
pearance  of  thrift   is   far  from   lighting   up   )our 


122  PARISH  CHRISTIANnV. 

face  with  pleasure.  It  becomes  clouded  as  you 
look.  The  whole  scene  breathes  discontent  upon 
you.  You  get  a  sensible  relief  when  you  can 
turn  your  eyes  away  to  other  estates  in  which 
he  has  no  interest.  And  let  there  come  a  reverse 
to  those  prospering  affairs  —  let  the  marks  of 
decay  succeed  to  those  of  thrift,  the  herds  dwin- 
dle from  the  hills,  the  ever  lessening  crops  betray 
the  wasting  land,  the  buildings  begin  to  speak  to 
all  who  pass  them  of  their  owner's  embarrass- 
ments, then  your  inward  bitterness  is  in  accord 
with  the  outward  scene  —  then  you  can  look  on 
it  without  pain,  and  even  detect  the  beginnings 
of  a  grim  satisfaction,  as  your  eye  wanders  over 
the  decaying  landscape. 

And  still  again  I  ask.  Is  there  anything  like 
this  in  the  feelings  awakened  by  your  view  of 
the  prosperity  and  adversity  of  God  }  For  He, 
too,  has  His  prosperity  and  adversity.  The  one 
is  when  religion  flourishes.  Now  good  men  are 
vigilant,  spiritual,  and  active.  Now  sinners  are 
turned  away  from  sin  in  large  numbers.  In  short, 
we  have  a  genuine  revival  of  religion.  Does  the 
idea  of  such  a  revival  make  you  uneasy  .-*  Would 
it  be  somewhat  disagreeable  should  you  find  there 
is  a  prospect  of  such  an  event  in  your  own  neigh- 


THIS  LAW  BROKEN.  123 

borhood  ?  Do  you  shrink  from  it  with  conscious, 
if  not  large,  aversion  ?  And  yet  revivals,  rent, 
revivals,  are  the  green  tracts,  the  weighty  har- 
vests, and  enlarging  domain  of  the  Great  Pro- 
prietor. —  But  He  has  His  unprosperous  times 
also.  How  stand  you  affected  at  the  sight  and 
thought  of  them  ?  Does  a  gleam  of  satisfaction 
shoot  athwart  you  when  you  hear  that  a  Chris- 
tian professor  has  done  what  makes  to  the  disad- 
vantage of  religion .''  Do  you  like  to  hear  and 
believe  hard  things  respecting  the  character  and 
conduct  of  the  church  at  large  .'*  At  the  bot- 
tom of  your  heart,  would  you  prefer  to  have  that 
church  sleeping  rather  than  waking,  worldly 
rather  than  spiritual,  inactive  rather  than  ac- 
tive :  and  to  have  the  community  generally  gay, 
careless,  and  almost  drowned  in  the  worldly  and 
God-forgetting  spirit .-'  Then  you  relish  seeing 
God  in  waning  circumstances.  For,  here  you 
have  His  house  out  of  repair.  His  flocks  failing 
from  their  pastures.  His  fields  themselves  pining 
away  under  drought  and  misconduct  of  laborers. 
And  surely  if  it  touches  you  with  a  shade  of  sor- 
row to  see  signs  of  His  prosperity,  and  with  a 
gleam  of  satisfaction  to  see  the  signs  of  His  ad- 
versity, you  must  confess  that  you  have  yet  an- 


124  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Other  sign  of  a  heart  hostile  to  Him.  May  I  not 
now  say  that  the  probabiHties  have  gathered  into 
the  sufficient  proof  that  within  your  heart  hves  a 
dreadful  serpent ;  in  essential  nature,  if  not  in 
size,  like  that  which  in  Satan  hisses  hatred  at  the 
person  and  goverment  of  God  ? 

Enmity  to  God  !  Can  it  be  that  this  young 
viper  lies  coiled  up  in  your  bosom,  cherished  by 
its  warmth,  fed  by  its  circulation,  and  daily  show- 
ing a  keener  eye  and  a  more  active  movement  ? 
Even  so.  Partly  covered  up  by  a  variety  of 
things,  and  as  yet  not  very  readily  made  out  by 
the  eye  amid  the  shadows  and  covers  of  its  hid- 
ing-place, but  revealing  itself  to  certain  tests  with 
much  clearness  !  The  lineal  descendant  of  the 
v^ery  serpent  that  stung  to  death  Christ  and  His 
prophets  long  ago  ;  and  which,  if  time  enough  is 
given  it,  will  come  to  all  the  venom  and  malig- 
nant activity  of  its  ancestor  !  A  mere  worm  at 
present,  but  gradually  finding  its  way  to  size  and 
terribleness,  and,  unless  smitten  and  killed,  sure 
at  last  to  open  a  wound  in  your  bosom  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  healing  art  !  '  You  were  not 
aware  of  the  infant  monster.  So  it  was  not  un- 
natural that  you  should  feel  at  ease.  But  now  that 
.  you  see  him  fairly  domesticated  in  your  bosom, 


THIS  LA  W  BROKEN.  I  2  5 

does  it  not  seem  to  you  a  frightful  thing  ?  What, 
discover  a  true  viper,  living  within  you,  and  oc- 
casionally showing  himself  at  your  mouth,  and 
yet  not  be  dismayed  and  take  measures  with 
trembling  promptitude  to  cast  him  out !  Can  it 
be  that  you  are  inconsiderate  enough  to  say  that 
it  will  be  some  time  yet  ere  the  reptile  will  be 
large  enough  to  give  a  mortal  wound  ;  and  that  so 
there  is  no  need  for  present  concern  and  haste  ! 
Who  has  told  you  just  the  day  and  the  hour  when 
he  will  be  ready  to  strike  the  fang  into  your  vein  ? 
I  am  not  sure  that  he  will  not  be  able  to  do  it  to- 
morrow. He  is  moving  now.  See,  he  is  bran- 
dishing his  tongue  and  giving  his  warning  hiss ! 
Wait  for  no  to-morrow.  You  may  find  it  no  easy 
matter,  though  you  set  about  it  presently,  to  de- 
tach the  enemy  from  his  nestling  place,  and  pro- 
ject him  sheer  out  of  you.  But  he  is  daily  working 
deeper.  Every  year  sees  him  embrace  the  roots 
of  your  being  with  a  new  fold.  What  success 
will  attend  an  effort  to  dislodge  him  years  hence 
neither  you  nor  I  can  say.  If  you  are  disposed 
to  do  something  at  once  in  your  behalf,  there  is 
one  very  important  suggestion  to  be  made  as  to 
the  mode.  Instead  of  calling  to  your  aid  some 
forceps  of  human  contrivance,  and  with  that  en- 


126  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

deavoring  to  draw  out  with  your  own  hand  the 
rehictant  and  shppery  foe,  remember  that  he  is 
as  much  the  foe  of  God  as  of  yourself.  Go  to 
Him  and  submit  your  heart  confidingly  to  the 
manipulations  of  His  unexampled  skill.  He  can 
relieve  you  of  that  dangerous  inmate.  He  will 
not  refuse  to  do  it.  He  has  already  taken  the 
pest  from  many  a  heart  —  suffer  Him  to  add 
yours  to  the  number.  And  wdien  the  work  is 
done,  and  the  enemy  lies  lifeless  at  your  feet  in 
the  light  of  day,  with  all  the  marks  of  his  deadly 
race  upon  him,  you  will  be  convinced  that  your 
alarm  was  not  excessive,  nor  your  action  prema- 
ture. 


VIII. 
YET   MOST    REASONABLE. 


VIIL 

YET  MOST  REASONABLE. 

*"  I  ^HE  entire  reasonableness  of  that  part  of  the 
Divine  Law  which  relates  to  external  conduct 
is  easily  seen.  Thou  shalt  not  bow  down  to  idols, 
thou  shalt  not  steal,  thou  shalt  not  bear  false  wit- 
ness —  who  feels  entitled  to  complain,  even  in 
thought,  of  such  commands  as  these .''  All  see  at 
a  glance  that  what  is  required  is  both  good  and 
possible. 

Not  so,  however,  when  God  takes  it  upon 
Him  to  demand  the  affections  of  otcr  hearts.  At 
once  questions  and  difficulties  begin  to  arise. 
"  Can  a  man  love  by  merely  choosing  to  love  .'' 
Can  I  put  off  inborn  relishes  and  disrelishes  as 
one  does  his  garment  —  when  it  suits  my  con- 
venience .''  And  then  the  idea  of  compelling 
attachment  —  of  calling  for  it  in  tones  of  author- 
ity, with  Sinaitic  thunders  and  threat  of  giant 
penalty  !  Is  not  this  just  the  way  to  make  the 
sentiment  impossible  to  such  beings  as  we  are, 
even  if  we  were  naturally  disposed  to  welcome  it .-'  " 


130  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

So  the  heart  is  very  apt  to  inquire  and  reason. 
And  perhaps  j'^//  have  had  such  thoughts,  or  the 
shadows  of  them,  though  you  have  never  given 
expression  to  them  in  words  ;  are  troubled  by 
them  as  being  so  many  accusations  against  God 
and  so  many  arguments  against  yourself  ;  are  dis- 
couraged by  them  from  attempting,  at  least  with 
hopefulness  and  vigor,  to  exercise  the  love  re- 
quired. If  so,  allow  me  to  give  you  some  rea- 
sons for  thinking  that  love  to  God  is  as  voluntary 
a  thing  as  honesty  of  the  hands  or  truthfulness  of 
the  lips,  as  a  church-going  or  alms-giving  ;  and 
therefore  can  as  reasonably  be  made  a  matter  of 
command. 

You  enter  your  neighbor's  house.  There  dwell 
the  best  parents  you  ever  knew — so  gentle,  so 
wise,  so  disinterested,  so  good  in  all  respects,  that 
you  never  saw  their  equals.  While  waiting  for 
them  to  appear,  what  more  natural  than  to  call 
their  little  son  to  your  knee,  and,  after  soothing 
his  shyness  and  gaining  his  ear  by  speaking  of  his 
playmates  and  books,  to  proceed  to  tell  him  that 
he  must  be  a  good  child,  and  mind  his  parents, 
and  love  them  very  much  }  Are  you  in  earnest  1 
Do  you  really  mean  what  you  say }  Here  you 
are  bidding  the  child  to  love  his  parents,  and  it 


YET  MOST  REASONABLE.  131 

does  not  once  occur  to  you  that  you  are  doing 
anything  unreasonable.  You  think  it  one  of  the 
most  proper  things  to  be  said  to  him.  And  you 
are  not  alone  in  the  thought.  I  think  so.  Every- 
body thinks  so.  Even  the  child  has  nothing  to 
object  ;  nor  does  he  raise  an  eye  of  astonishment 
to  your  face  as  if  he  had  been  required  to  lift  a 
house  or  touch  the  stars.  He  can  love  his  most 
excellent  parents  if  he  chooses  to  do  it.  And 
why  may  he  not  in  the  same  way,  whatever  that 
way  may  be,  come  to  love  his  Heavenly  Father  .? 
Do  you  say  there  are  difficulties  in  the  one  case 
which  do  not  exist  in  the  other  —  that  the  child 
has  a  natural  alienation  from  God,  but  a  natural 
tendency  toward  his  parents  }  Very  true ;  and 
this  does  indeed  make  it  likely  that  more  effort  will 
be  needed  to  secure  the  Divine  than  the  human 
affection.  It  shows  nothing  beyond  this.  Are 
things  to  which  there  is  a  natural  obstruction 
necessarily  beyond  the  power  of  the  will }  Do  we 
not  often  see  natural  dislikes  to  certain  kinds  of 
employment,  of  food,  of  social  customs,  overcome 
by  dint  of  strong  and  persevering  willing  .''  De- 
mosthenes had  from  the  beginning  his  defect  of 
speech  :  did  not  his  stubborn  will  at  last  find  out 
a  way  to  remove  it  .''     Some  are  born  with  harsh 


132  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

tempers  :  is  it  an  unheard  of  thing  for  such  men 
to  subdue  their  tempers  ?  No,  the  fact  that  there 
is  a  tendency  away  from  God  in  us  only  shows 
that  there  is  labor  in  store  for  us  if  we  choose  to 
move  toward  Him.  Just  as  an  innate  gravitation 
of  his  whole  body  downward  does  not  keep  the 
bird  from  rising  toward  the  sun,  or  the  aeronaut 
from  shooting  up  like  an  arrow  into  the  glorious 
blue  —  so  the  natural  gravitation  of  our  hearts 
away  from  love  to  God  need  not  keep  us  away 
from  that  great  attainment. 

But  some  one  will  have  it  that  the  two  cases 
widely  differ.  "  The  Scriptures,"  he  says,  "  not 
only  teach  that  aversion  of  the  human  heart  to 
God  is  native,  but  also  that  it  is  so  deep-seated 
and  powerful  that  nothing  short  of  a  Divine 
power  will  take  it  away."  True,  our  depravity 
is  so  strong  that  without  the  help  of  God  we 
shall  never  love  Him.  But  every  good  and  per- 
fect gift  is  from  above  —  every  desirable  feel- 
ing must  come  to  us  through  Divine  hands.  It 
is  even  true  of  that  love  which  you  were  just  now 
bidding  the  child  have  to  his  parents.  If  he  fol- 
lows your  counsel,  it  is  sure  to  be  by  a  heavenly 
persuading  and  enabling.  His  is  just  the  case  of 
one  who   has  to  gain  love  to  God.     Neither  will 


YET  MOST  REASONABLE.  1 33 

love  without  God  :  and  yet  both  will  love,  if  they 
at  last  come  to  that  point,  as  a  result  of  their  own 
voluntary  action.  The  two  things  are  perfectly 
consistent  with  each  other.  Cannot  God  prompt, 
and  help  carry  into  effect,  free  human  choices .-' 
Man  can  do  as  much  —  why  not  man's  Maker  .-• 
The  child,  in  the  circumstances  in  which  he  is 
placed  and  with  such  helps  as  the  Spirit  and 
Providence  of  God  are  sure  to  afford  him,  can,  by 
the  use  of  his  voluntary  powers,  come,  even  from 
deep  estrangement  of  heart,  to  love  most  tenderly 
those  excellent  parents  whose  worth  is  the  pride 
of  their  neighborhood  and  an  ornament  to  human 
nature.  And  so  the  sinner,  in  his  circumstances 
and  with  such  aids  as  Divine  grace  has  gathered 
about  him,  can  by  his  own  free  efforts  come  to 
stifle  in  himself  aversion,  and  kindle  in  its  room  a 
deep,  tender,  beautiful  love  toward  that  perfect 
Father  above  of  whose  greatness  and  goodness  all 
that  is  great  and  good  among  men  is  only  a  pigmy 
shadow.  This  result  cannot,  indeed,  be  had  in  a 
moment  by  the  simple  choice  of  it :  nor  can  the 
estranged  child  at  once  set  up  his  parents  in  his 
heart  by  simply  willing  to  do  so.  I  cannot  stand 
and  say  to  my  heart,  "  Love  thou  God  ;  "  and  at 
once  the  beauty  of  that  dear  grace  flush  up  the 


134  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

firmament  of  my  soul  as  a  familiar  wonder  did  a 
few  evenings  ago  the  northern  heavens  with  its 
arches  of  triumph,  and  highways  of  angels,  and 
soft  waving  streamers  of  glory.  But  what  of 
that  ?  Does  it  follow  that  the  blessing  does  not 
lie  within  the  scope  of  my  voluntary  powers  ? 
Because  the  author  cannot  will  his  book  into 
being  after  the  manner  in  which  God  made  the 
light,  does  it  follow  that  he  cannot  write  the  book 
if  he  chooses  ?  Because  the  builder  cannot  make 
a  house  by  simply  saying  in  the  depths  of  his  de- 
termining faculty,  "  Let  the  house  appear,"  does 
it  follow  that  he  cannot  ply  axe  and  hammer  and 
plane  until  the  building  is  done  ?  By  pieces  the 
work  can  be  done  —  the  foundation  laid,  the  beams 
hewn,  the  frame  raised,  and  so  on,  step  by  step, 
till  at  last  a  stately  mansion  adorns  the 'landscape. 
He  has  wrought  with  his  own  hands  ;  he  has  per- 
haps called  in  the  work  of  others  still  more  strong 
and  skillful :  and  when,  the  last  stroke  given,  he 
stands  off  and  surveys  the  great  and  comely  struct- 
ure, he  feels  (does  he  not)  that  it  is  the  product 
of  his  own  will.  So  may  we  feel,  if  by  any  volun- 
tary process  and  by  any  aids  voluntarily  bespoken, 
we  succeed  in  building  up  within  ourselves  the 
palace  of  Love  to  God     It  stands  there  by  our 


YET  MOST  REASONABLE.  1 35 

choice  ;  it  is  the  answer  made  by  our  wills  to  the 
command,  "  Thou  shaltlove  the  Lord  thy  God." 

That  a  thing  can  be  done  is  often  best  proved 
by  showing  Jiow  it  can  be  done.  It  so  happens 
that  I  can  add  this  most  satisfactory  proof  to  my 
argument.  I  can  point  out  the  steps  of  a  volun- 
tary process  by  which  a  man  may  philosophically 
and  Scripturally  build  up  within  himself  the  com- 
manded love  to  God.  Let  him  begin  v^'Vdx  prayer 
for  the  blessing.  This  is  the  Bible  way  of  begin- 
ning all  good  enterprises.  And  it  is  the  philo- 
sophical way  too  ;  for,  plainly,  there  is  no  being 
who  can  do  so  much  to  help  an  undertaking,  of 
whatever  sort,  as  God.  He  knows  how  to  inspire 
courage  and  perseverance,  how  to  enlighten  the 
judgment,  how  to  arrange  circumstances  so  as  to 
further  the  end  in  view.  Suppose  the  problem  is 
to  love  Him.  Is  not  this  an  undertaking  He  ap- 
proves }  Does  He  not  know  the  deepest  and 
most  secret  springs  of  the  affections  —  all  about 
the  ways  and  means  of  reaching  and  working  the 
will  which  He  Himself  made  and  whose  history 
He  has  watched  from  its  beginning }  By  all 
means  send  your  disordered  instrument  to  the 
artist  who  contrived  and  made  it,  if  you  would 
have  it  put  into    good   condition.      Cannot   God 


136  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

easily  put  Himself  into  such  sweet  and  glorious 
points  of  view  to  us  as  we  might  strive  years  for  in 
vain  if  left  to  ourselves  ?  Certainly  He  will  not  be 
offended  if  we  ask  Him  to  help  us  love  Him  ;  and 
who  can  say  that  it  may  not  be  proper  for  Him  to 
do  on  request  what  it  would  not  be  proper  for  Him 
to  do  without  ?  So  reason  bids  us  go  to  Him  at 
the  outset :  bids  it  even  before  she  has  heard 
Moses  promise  Israel  that  God  would  circumcise 
their  heart  to  love  the  Lord  their  God  ;  and  heard 
Paul  pray  that  God  would  direct  the  hearts  of  the 
Thessalonians  into  the  love  of  God,  or  assert 
that  the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad  in  their  hearts 
by  the  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  But  now  that 
the  surer  Teacher  has  thus  plainly  spoken,  and  we 
learn  that  to  kindle  up  the  soul  into  a  personal 
attachment  to  Himself  is  a  sort  of  work  that  God 
actually  engages  in  ;  and  further,  that  prayer  for 
His  aid  at  this  point  is  a  fitting  and  most  service- 
able thing ;  surely  the  way  cannot  be  clearer. 
Call  in  aid  from  abroad  —  from  that  greatest 
abroad  which  is  above.  Contrary  to  the  proverb 
which  you  have  been  hearing  from  childhood,  de- 
pend not  on  your  own  resources,  but  in  this  matter 
take  hold  of  the  resources  of  the  great  Helper. 
This  is  the  first  step  in  that  voluntary  movement 


YET  MOST  REASONABLE.  13/ 

which  is  to  estabHsh  God  in  your  hearts.  Does 
anybody  doubt  that  a  sincere  asking  for  God's 
help  is  fully  within  the  power  of  our  wills  ? 

Next,  submit  unreservedly  to  God  as  a  moral 
and  providential  governor.  This  is  a  splendid 
step  toward  loving  Him.  Our  successes  and  re- 
verses, our  comforts  and  trials,  the  whole  check- 
ered scene  of  our  state  in  this  world,  are  in  His 
hand.  Whatever  be  the  reluctance  of  our  hearts, 
we  can  say  to  Him  (giving  consent  to  be  taken  at 
our  word  beyond  the  power  of  recall),  "  Thou  art 
all-wise  and  all-good  ;  we  are  ignorant  and  sinful ; 
we  consent  to  have  thy  Providence  send  us  such 
events  and  conditions,  painful  or  pleasing,  as  shall 
seem  to  Thee  to  be  most  for  Thy  glory  and  our 
final  good."  This  is  submission  to  God  as  a  Provi- 
dence. But  we  need  to  submit  to  Him  in  another 
character.  He  has  given  us  a  written  code  of 
laws.  And,  whatever  be  the  reluctance  of  our 
hearts,  our  wills  possess  the  power,  with  such  help 
as  God  gives,  of  adopting  these  laws  as  the  rule  of 
life  —  possess  the  power  of  solemnly  pledging  our- 
selves that  with  the  help  of  Divine  grace  we  will 
endeavor  at  the  doing  of  all  the  commandments, 
from  the  greatest  to  the  least,  easy  or  difficult, 
now  and  ever.     This  done,  we  have  submitted  to 


138  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

God  as  a  Moral  Governor.  Our  submission  is 
now  complete.  We  have  cast  away  our  rebellion 
and  accepted  the  government  of  God  in  all  its 
parts.  Now,  I  ask,  what  would  be  the  practical 
bearing  of  such  a  step  as  this  on  our  feelings  to- 
ward God.  Look  at  some  little  child  for  an  an- 
swer. He  has  for  days  been  wayward.  His  heart 
is  bitter  to  the  parents  who  have  crossed  his  will, 
and  have  labored  with  reproof  and  rod  to  guide 
and  restrain  him.  His  eye  is  cold  upon  them  ; 
he  does  not  wish  to  speak  to  them.  He  keeps 
out  of  their  disagreeable  presence  as  much  as  he 
can.  But  at  last,  one  day,  under  the  pleadings  of 
love  or  the  smartings  of  chastisement,  his  better 
nature  awakes  within  him.  After  perhaps  many 
a  struggle,  he  bows  his  stubborn  will.  He  says  to 
his  father,  "  I  have  done  wrong  ;  I  am  sorry  for 
it  ;  I  mean  to  do  so  no  more  ;  I  will  try  to  do  all 
you  bid,  and  to  behave  so  as  to  please  you  in  all 
things."  In  a  word  he  siibniits.  Does  his  heart 
rise  up  against  his  good  parents  now  }  Does  he 
still  shun  them  and  keep  word  and  face  in  sullen- 
ness  }  You  know  how  it  is  —  clouds  broken  up 
and  a  burst  of  sunshine !  All  his  sourness  gone, 
never  has  he  seemed  to  love  his  parents  so  much. 
Now  is    the    time,  if  ever,  when   his  face  fairly 


YET  MOST  REASONABLE.  139 

shines  on  them  with  aftection,  and  he  flings  his 
arms  about  their  necks  in  unaffected  fondness. 
There  is  no  mystery  about  it  —  it  is  just  the  nat- 
ural result  of  his  submission.  As  soon  as  the 
clouds  are  gone,  the  sun  does  his  proper  work, 
and  the  ice  melts.  As  soon  as  the  little  rebel 
gives  up  his  insubordination,  his  reason,  the  char- 
acter of  his  parents,  and  his  filial  instincts  produce 
their  appropriate  effect,  and  he  loves.  Such  is 
the  effect  of  a  real  submission  to  God.  The  en- 
mity of  the  natural  heart  at  once  disappears  by  a 
law  of  Nature,  also  by  a  law  of  grace,  and  in 
its  stead  comes  love  by  the  same  two-fold  law. 
For,  says  the  Evangelist,  "  To  as  many  as  received 
Him  gave  He  power  to  become  the  sons  of  God, 
even  to  them  who  believe  in  His  name."  So  a 
practical  faith  in  God  at  once  establishes  the  filial 
relation  and  feeling.  In  many  cases  this  feeling 
is  immediately  recognized.  How  some  converts 
at  once  glow  and  burn  in  love !  They  could  give 
up  all  for  God's  dear  sake.  They  could  go  to 
martyrdom  joyfully  out  of  love  to  the  Heavenly 
Father.  Such  dazzling  experiences  are  far  from 
being  universal  ;  but  the  tide  that  rises  to  a  flood 
in  some  penitent  hearts  is  sure  to  exist  in  some 
degree  in  all  such  hearts.     The  traveler  who  sees 


140  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  waters  heaped  up  their  seventy  feet  in  the 
Bay  of  Fundy,  knows  that  the  same  tidal  wave  is 
swelling  somewhat  on  every  part  of  the  same  me- 
ridian, the  world  around. 

I  might  stop  here,  as  having  fairly  given  a 
method  by  which  one  can  gain  love  to  God. 
Prayer  will  help  him  to  it ;  and  he  will  surely 
have  it  just  as  soon  as  he  has  thoroughly  submit- 
ted himself  to  God.  But  this  love  should  be  seen 
as  well  as  exist.  It  should  burn  so  brightly  in  his 
consciousness  that  he  cannot  doubt  that  he  has  it. 
This  is  what  he  needs  for  his  fullest  satisfaction, 
and  it  is  what  God  really  requires  of  him.  Sup- 
pose it  is  so  weak,  or  so  overlaid  by  other  states 
of  the  mind,  as  to  escape  notice.  Then  the  man 
fears  that  he  has  not  fully  submitted.  He  is  in 
great  trouble.  He  peers  into  the  dark  within  him 
with  anxious  face  and  extended  lantern,  but  can 
see  nothing.  What  shall  he  do  .''  He  has  prayed  ; 
he  has  tried  to  submit.  Now  let  him  do  what 
every  intelligent  person  would  advise  a  child  to 
do  in  like  circumstances.  That  child  has  dis- 
tinctly confessed  and  renounced  his  disobedience  ; 
and  yet,  somehow,  he  does  not  feel  that  glow  of 
filial  tenderness  which  is  befitting  and  which  he 
wants.     You  would  bid  him   tJiink  of  the  many 


YET  MOST  REASONABLE.  141 

excellencies  of  his  parents  ;  especially  think  about 
all  their  care  and  love  and  benefits  toward  him. 
What  self-denials  and  toils  and  expenses  they 
have  lavished  on  him  from  very  birth,  and  are 
still  ready  to  lavish !  "  Keep  these  things,"  you 
would  say  to  him,  "  much  in  your  thoughts  ;  and 
refuse  to  allow  yourself  in  any  harsh,  low,  un- 
worthy conceptions  of  these  noble  parents.  Do 
this,  while  striving  to  meet  their  wishes  in  every- 
thing, and  I  can  promise  you  that  you  will  soon 
find  your  heart  growing  tender  toward  them." 
Who  would  not  call  this  sound  advice  .-*  Who 
would  not  expect  a  happy  issue  in  case  the  advice 
should  be  faithfully  followed }  It  is  just  what 
every  man  should  take  to  himself,  who,  after  ap-- 
parently  submitting  to  God,  still  fails  to  see  in 
himself  that  love  to  God  which  he  covets.  Let 
him  ponder  the  glorious  excellence  and  supreme 
beauty  of  his  Heavenly  Father.  Let  him  muse 
often  and  deeply  on  the  shining  justice  and  lov- 
ing-kindness, the  wonderful  long-suffering  and 
immutable  faithfulness,  the  infinite  condescension 
and  eternal  uprightness  of  the  One  Great  and 
Good.  Let  him  keep  before  his  mind  what  care 
and  benefits  and  tenderness  he  has. in  his  own 
person   received    at  the  hands  of  his    Father  in 


142.  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Heaven  from  the  beginning  till  now,  and  oh,  what 
sacrifices  have  been  made  for  him,  what  a  Gospel 
has  been  given  him,  what  a  Spirit  has  waited  on 
him,  and  what  a  Heaven  is  beckoning  to  him  with 
all  its  radiant  fingers  —  let  this  matchless  God  of 
the  Scriptures  be  the  God  of  his  frequent  and 
earnest  thought,  and  let  him  refuse  to  entertain, 
as  being  intuitively  false,  all  low  and  complaining 
thoughts  of  Him,  while  carefully  trying  to  do  His 
will  from  day  to  day  ;  and  no  one  need  be  afraid 
to  warrant  that  the  want  of  his  heart  will  be  met, 
and  that  he  will  see  his  love  to  God,  perhaps  as 
men  see  the  sun. 

This  method  for  attaining  a  visible  love  to  God 
is  unfailing.  It  is  both  Scriptural  and  philosophi- 
cal. It  has  been  tried  ten  thousand  times  with 
entire  success.  Do  you  know,  I  am  not  one  of 
those  who  wonder  that  there  is  so  little  conscious 
love  to  God  among  men.  How  little  time  do  our 
most  correct  people  give  to  thinking  of  Him  !  In 
comparison  with  worldly  matters  how  small  space 
is  allowed  Him  in  our  thought  !  We  complain 
that  our  hearts  are  cold,  that  we  greatly  fear  there 
is  no  genuine  love  in  them.  Pray,  with  this  man- 
ner of  treating  ourselves  and  in  the  name  of  all 
that  is  reasonable,  what  right  have  we  to  look  for 


YET  MOST  REASONABLE.  143 

a  different  state  of  things  ?  How  often  do  we  set 
ourselves  down  deliberately  to  pass  in  review 
God's  glorious  character  and  deeds  ?  How  often, 
at  home  or  abroad,  on  sabbath  or  week-day,  is 
there  even  a  transient  hearty  effort  to  conceive  of 
God  as  He  is  ?  Is  it  at  all  strange  that  our  hearts 
should  seem  like  icicles  Godward  ?  It  were  a 
miracle  were  it  otherwise.  When  have  men 
crossed  the  ocean  without  ships,  or  grown  strong 
without  food  ?  To  expect  that  an  invisible  being 
will  awaken  tenderness,  when  the  thoughts  are  al- 
lowed no  opportunity  to  dwell  on  what  is  lovely 
and  admirable  in  Him,  is  absurd. 

I  trust  you  see  the  entire  reasonableness  of  the 
command  to  love  God.  Any  man  can  have  this 
love  who  chooses.  Any  man  who  chooses  can 
consciously  have  it.  Not  perhaps  in  the  way  he 
chooses  ;  perhaps  not  as  easily  nor  as  suddenly 
nor  as  independently  as  he  would  like  ;  but  still 
in  a  way  every  step  of  which  lies  fully  within  the 
scope  of  his  will.  He  can  call  in  Divine  power. 
He  can  wholly  submit  to  God.  He  can  keep  his 
mind  familiar  with  the  Divine  perfections.  And 
it  can  safely  be  put  to  his  conscience  whether  it 
is  not  reasonable  that  he  should  be  called  on  to  do 
M'hat   is    plainly   so  important  to   be   done.     We 


144  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

ought  to  love  God  without  being  required  to  do 
it ;  nay,  it  is  nothing  less  than  monstrous  that  so 
glorious  a  being  should  be  obliged  to  seek  by  stat- 
ute what  ought  to  seek  Him  as  the  mountain 
torrent  seeks  the  plain.  But  since  it  is  clear,  from 
the  slow^iess  with  which  we  are  roused  to  any  sort 
of  religious  effort  under  the  existing  goads  of  stat- 
utes and  penalties,  that  we  would  never  be  roused 
without  such  goads,  let  us  thank  God  that  He  has 
not  withheld  them,  but  says  amid  the  thunders  of 
the  mount,  "  TJiou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God." 


IX. 
CONSEQUENT    GUILT. 


IX. 

CONSEQUENT  GUILT. 

OOME  bodies  have  large  measures  of  a  subtle 
*^  force  which  we  call  electric.  This  force  tends 
to  flow  out  to  certain  other  bodies.  But  insulation 
often  happens.  The  electrically  charged  substance 
becomes  surrounded  with  non-conductors,  and 
neither  gives  nor  receives  the  darting  currents. 
Perhaps,  not  far  away,  is  some  magnificent  bat- 
tery all  filled  to  overflowing  with  the  bright  leap- 
ing forces,  and  ready  to  discharge  them  freely, 
could  only  some  bridge  of  communication  be  es- 
tablished. But  there  is  no  overleaping  the  dead, 
unsympathizing  glass  between.  We  have  an  isl- 
and cut  off  from  the  main-land  by  breadths  of  sea, 
across  which  no  laded  ships  of  intercourse  as  yet 
have  learned  to  pass  and  repass. 

In  our  natural  state  we  are  insulated  in  regard 
to  God.  Our  affections,  our  purposes,  even  our 
thoughts,  do  not  flow  out  readily  toward  Him. 
There  is  between  the  two  some  non-conducting 
medium.     And  it  is  a  medium  which  sorely  hin- 


148  rARISH  CHRISTIANirY. 

ders  the  outflow  of  Divine  love  and  kindly  purpose 
and  thought  on  us.  VVe  are  islands  cut  off  from 
our  main-land.  We  are  an  offense  to  God  and 
God  is  no  pleasure  to  us.  His  will  and  glory,  are 
not  the  great  object  we  have  in  view  ;  nor  do  His 
purposes  favor  our  happiness  and  advancement. 
VVe  think  of  Him  seldom  and  with  reluctance  ; 
and  He  never  thinks  of  us  approvingly.  We  do 
not  ask  what  He  would  have  us  do  ;  and  He  does 
not  concern  Himself  with  what  we  would  have 
Him  do  —  save  in  the  way  of  disapproving,  rebuk- 
ing, and  punishing.     The  alienation  is  mutual. 

But  I  am  now  most  concerned  with  that  part  of 
the  alienation  which  belongs  to  man.  Sometimes 
natural  men  find  it  hard  to  see,  what  yet  is  un- 
doubtedly true,  that  just  views  of  God  are  repul- 
sive to  their  tastes,  and  that  their  true  feeling  to- 
ward Him  is  of  the  nature  of  hostility.  But  it  is 
never  very  hard  to  convict  them  to  their  own  con- 
sciousness of  alienation  from  their  Maker  —  of 
standing  one  side  from  Him,  of  having  no  com- 
munion with  Him  and  no  particular  taste  for  any, 
of  general  indifference  to  His  person  and  cause, 
of  rarely  or  never  consulting  His  wishes  —  in 
drafting  plans  and  prosecuting  enterprises.  A 
few  moments  of  reflection  are  enough.     They  are 


CONSEQUENT  GUILT.  149 

convinced  that  if  they  are  not  against  God,  they 
are  certainly  witJioiU  Him  in  the  world.  Their 
hearts,  when  candidly  questioned,  say,  God  is  not 
in  us.  Their  business  and  their  pleasure,  when 
fairly  put  to  their  testimony,  say.  And  God  is  not 
in  us.  The  charge  is  not  that  the  needle  of  their 
life,  both  outer  and  inner,  does  not  settle  firmly  in 
the  direction  of  God  but  wavers  about  many  de- 
grees from  side  to  side  :  it  is  that  neither  heart 
nor  conduct  has  any  polarity  whatever  toward 
Him,  that  both  feeling  and  doing  make  no  account 
of  Him  —  of  His  wishes,  interests,  commands. 
And  the  charge  is  proven  in  the  consciousness  of 
each  sinner  as  soon  as  made.  He  knows  that  his 
life  as  a  whole  has  been,  not  an  answer  to  the 
question.  What  zvilt  TJioil  have  me  to  do  ?  —  but 
rather  answers  to  the  questions,  What  zvill  people 
tJiink  of  it  ?  Will  it  be  for  my  ivoiddly  interest  or 
pleasure?  He  knows,  further,  that  his  ruling 
tastes  have  pointed  away  from  religious  duties 
and  employments  ;  that  Bible-reading  and  prayer 
and  religious  meditation  have  been  irksome  ;  that 
it  is  with  a  sense  of  relief  he  takes  leave  of  sab- 
baths, revivals,  godly  books,  godly  conversation, 
and  all  things  flavored  with  the  idea  of  God. 
This  bespeaks  at  least  godlessness. 


I50  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

I  wish  now  to  speak  of  the  great  guilt  of  this 
state.  The  men  who  would  be  shocked  at  a  posi- 
tive hatred  of  God  and  active  hostihty  to  Him  as 
being  a  dreadful  crime,  and  who  stoutly  deny 
that  such  crime  can  be  justly  charged  on  them, 
will  generally  admit  their  simple  alienation,  with- 
out any  sense  that  they  are  at  the  same  time  ad- 
mitting their  "  desperate  wickedness."  The  prac- 
tical impression  is  that  letting  God  alone  is  a 
small  sin.  You  cannot  fight  against  Him  without 
sinning  capitally,  but  you  can  live  apart  from  Him, 
neglect  Him,  have  nothing  to  do  with  Him,  and 
yet  do  nothing  very  bad.  Look  around.  Behold 
the  great  mass  of  men  alienated  (confessedly  so 
in  their  own  consciousness),  and  yet  unconvicted 
and  unabashed,  and  not  seldom  trusting  in 
their  blamelessness  for  acceptance  with  Heaven  ! 
These  men  have  a  great  lesson  to  learn.  Not 
that  simple  alienation  is  as  bad  as  hostility,  but 
that  even  the  milder  offense  is  dark-faced  enough, 
when  fairly  seen,  to  disturb  conscience  to  its  low- 
est depths. 

"  What  is  the  first  and  great  commandment  f  " 
O  lawyer  and  tempter,  surely  it  is  this.  Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with 
all    thy  soul,  and  with   all  thy  mind  !     Does  he 


CONSEQUENT  GUILT.  151 

only  break  this  chief  command  who  hates  God, 
and  in  a  spirit  of  hatred  makes  outrageous  war 
upon  Him  ?  As  truly  is  it  done  by  him  who 
merely  stands  aloof  from  his  Creator.  His  heart 
is  indifferent,  his  will  habitually  makes  no  account 
of  the  Divine,  his  whole  life  proceeds  in  a  spirit 
of  independence  and  self-pleasing.  See  how  he 
leaves  the  empire-commandment  undone  !  See 
how  wholly  he  sacrifices  it  by  neglecting  to  love 
with  any  part  of  his  soul  —  it  being  all  pure  sep- 
aration from  God,  whether  we  look  at  feelings, 
choosings,  or  doings.  A  great  sin  is  that  which 
sacrifices  the  most  fundamental  and  sacred  of  the 
commandments. 

What  does  God  deserve  at  our  hands,  from  the 
stand-point  of  mere  reason }  I  see  Him  passing 
wonderful  in  His  eternal,  almighty,  and  all-know- 
ing nature  —  I  see  Him  an  actually  reigning 
monarch  in  heaven  and  earth,  in  hight  and  depth 
and  all  things  —  I  see  Him  reigning  in  matchless 
union  of  perfect  love  and  perfect  justice,  with 
more  than  a  father's  heart  bearing  the  firm  hand 
of  an  incorruptible  magistrate  —  in  a  word,  I  see 
Him  the  sum  of  all  that  is  great  and  lovely  and 
fearful.  Tell  me,  O  my  best  judgment,  what  such 
a  Being  deserves  at  my  hands  !     Is  He  to  be  left 


152  PARISH  CHRIS TIANirV. 

out  of  account  ?  Does  it  belong  to  the  fitness  of 
things  to  read  this  infinite  quantity  as  a  mere  ci- 
pher ?  Is  there  nothing  here  urging  me  to  pon- 
der, to  admire,  to  love,  to  fear,  to  obey  ?  The 
wonder  is  how  neglect  of  such  a  being  is  possible 
to  men  who  have  the  least  faculty  for  seeing 
things  as  they  are.  Every  principle  of  reason  de- 
mands of  us  that  God  be  the  great  idea  of  every 
day,  the  ruling  passion  whether  as  hope  or  fear, 
the  generic  plan  and  work  which  wall  in  our  entire 
lives.  O  alienated  man,  to  whom  God  is  a  forget- 
fulness  instead  of  a  remembrance  ;  a  zero  hidden 
in  the  great  cave  of  silence  and  invisibility, 
whither  no  roots  of  sensibility  and  enterprise 
find  their  way  through  stony  roof  in  search  of  the 
nutritious  moisture  that  has  fled  the  surface  — 
know  for  certain  that  you  are  doing  vast  violence 
to  the  deservings  of  your  neglected  Maker.  Not 
a  great  sinner  .-'  Who  shall  say  this  —  if  indeed 
it  is  true  that  alienation  from  God  is  no  necessity  ; 
and  that  all  know,  or  might  know,  in  some  degree 
how  ill-deserved  it  is  ! 

We  can  often  make  sure  of  the  nature  of  a  prin- 
ciple by  tracing  it  to  its  source.  The  branches 
of  a  tree  will  have  the  same  juices  in  them  as  its 
root ;  and  if  the  root  is  a  poison  then  woe  to  the 


CONSEQUENT  GUILT.  153 

man  who  makesjrC^od  of  the  branches.  Whence 
comes  this  alienation  from  God  ?  jYou  will  find, 
on  inquiry  of  the  Bible  and  a  just  philosophy,  that 
it  all  comes  from  that  worst  possible  and  most 
poisonous  root,  a  siibtlc  antagonism  between  i/ie 
heart  and  virtue.  A  disrelish  to  religious  affec- 
tions and  rules  of  conduct  is  grounded  in  human 
nature.  This  is  the  native  depravity  and  original 
sin  of  which  theologians  speak ;  and  this  is  really 
what  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  trouble  between  us 
and  God.  He  is  the  disrelished  holiness  made 
pictorial  in  the  form  of  a  Person.  So  the  soul 
that  disrelishes  holiness  instinctively  draws  away 
from  Him.  Dealings  with  Him  are  not  welcome 
—  the  idea  of  Him  is  not  welcome — His  rules 
are  not  welcome.  Out  of  this  state  misconcep- 
tions of  God  naturally  spring.  His  name  grows 
to  be  a  chill,  sometimes  a  sharp  north  wind,  some- 
times even  arrows  and  spears.  The  whole  trouble 
is  born  of  a  secret  dislike  to  goodness.  This  is 
the  non-conductor  that  parts  between  us  and  the 
magnificent  battery  —  this  the  briny  stretch  that 
divides  our  island  from  its  main-land.  Were  there 
no  repugnance  of  the  soul  to  religion  itself  there 
would  be  no  living  without  God  in  the  world. 
The  creature  and  the  Creator  would  come  together 


154  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

like  planet  and  sun  on  the  yug^oval  of  the  cen- 
trifugal force  ,..•-"'       ■     , 

When  you  know  what  alienation  from  God  is  in 
itself,  you  have  only  be-gun  to  measure  its  evil. 
You  need  to  ask  what  sort  of  a  retinue  it  has.  It 
will  be  found  that,  like  many  other  evil  things,  it 
has  a  large  company  of  other  evils  in  its  train. 
Parley  who  opens  to  one  robber  finds  to  his  dis- 
may that  the  first  has  a  second  and  third  and  — 
hundreth.  If  one  allows  alienation  from  God  to 
enter  his  castle,  he  will  find  that  he  has  let  in  both 
the  robber-captain  and  his  whole  company.  Stand 
aloof  from  God  and  you  open  to  all  manner  of  sin. 
To  be  away  from  Him  is  to  be  away  from  the 
greatest  moral  helps,  and  with  Satan  and  the 
thick  of  his  temptations.  Living  without  refer- 
ence to  His  will  is  like  sailing  in  obscure  seas 
without  reference  to  chart  and  compass  and  star. 
Is  the  seaman  not  sure  to  make  many  wrong  and 
unfortunate  courses  }  Alas,  the  wanderings  of  the 
soul  that  does  not  sail  itself  by  the  will  of  God  ! 
What  strange  tracks  and  miserable  ventures  !  It 
will  find  its  way  to  archipelagoes  of  rocks  and 
wrecks.  Who  reckons  the  formidableness  of  an 
enemy  by  himself  alone  .-*  It  is  himself  and  tJie 
troops  that  viajxh  behind  him  that  the  wise  compu- 


CONSEQUENT  GUILT.  I  55 

tation  looks  after.  So  we  should  compuce  the 
common  alienation  from  God  ;  and  when  so  reck- 
oned it  will  be  found  an  evil  of  terrible  amount. 

In  fact  this  evil  is  one  which,  unlike  many  sins, 
makes  any  degree  of  true  virtue  impossible  in  the 
subject ;  and,  so  as  far  as  it  has  force  as  an  example, 
strikes  at  the  root  of  all  virtue  in  the  tuorld. 
There  are  many  faults,  and  even  depravities,  which 
permit  the  existence  of  virtues  side  by  side  with 
them  in  the  same  character.  But  this  depravity 
is  of  a  quite  different  order.  Nothing  of  the  nat- 
ure of  Christian  virtue  can  dwell  with  it.  Not 
even  a  mustard  seed  of  grace  can  come  in  till  this 
Satan  goes  out.  It  is  well  known  Bible  that  in 
men,  as  they  are  by  nature,  "there  dwelleth  no 
good  thing  ; "  and  that  the  first  step  out  of  this 
good-less  state  is  a  change  of  attitude  toward  God. 
The  sinner  who  before  looked  only  down  and 
around  on  the  earthly  at  last  turns  his  eyes  up- 
ward to  where  God  sits  in  the  glory  of  His  love 
and  wrath,  of  His  invitations  and  threatenings 
and  claims.  His  thoughts  gather  and  strain  about 
that  wondrous  Personality  as  they  never  could 
about  an  abstraction.  Fears  and  hopes  awaken 
in  His  presence.  Conscience  recognizes  her 
Master    and    begins    to    speak.     And   when    at 


156  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

length  the  soul  submits  to  Him,  it  is  in  the  act 
of  voluntarily  drawing  nigh.  This  is  its  first 
virtuous  act.  Were  it  to  keep  up  its  natural 
alienation  it  would  also  keep  up  its  death  in  tres- 
passes and  sins.  Not  a  quiver  of  true  life  would 
ever  appear.  Galvanic  tremors  might  now  and 
then  show  themselves  ;  but,  mark  you,  the  corpse 
is  a  corpse  still,  and  not  a  feather  will  move  at 
the  breathless  lips.  Surely  we  may  write  a  black 
name  over  against  the  evil  that  makes  all  good- 
ness impossible ;  and  so,  as  far  as  it  has  force  as 
an  example,  strikes  at  the  root  of  all  goodness  in 
the  world. 

Some  evils  are  transient.  Almost  a  single  mo- 
ment sees  their  beginning  and  ending.  Others 
continue  through  months  and  years.  The  latter, 
of  course,  are  the  worse  class.  They  are  careers 
of  evil  instead  of  single  steps.  Alienation  from 
God  is  a  long,  long  evil.  It  is  not  one  sinful  act 
put  forth  and  finished  in  the  compass  of  a  few 
moments,  but  a  sinful  state  of  mind  prolonged 
without  break  through  years  and  years.  It  is  not 
one  pang,  but  a  long  disease,  close  beaded  with 
pangs,  staying  by  us  night  and  day.  A  life-time, 
perhaps,  is  bound  up  in  these  cords  of  affliction. 
The  moral  system  has  no  relieved   moments  in 


CONSEQUENT  GUILT.  157 

which  to  recover  its  elasticity.  A  nightmare 
that  never  goes  away  !  To  put  on  God  for  a  few 
moments  a  treatment  so  unlike  what  He  deserves, 
would  be  no  small  wrong;  what  is  it  to  do  it  for 
years  on  years  ?  To  open  the  door  for  a  little 
time  to  all  manner  of  sin  is  no  small  evil  ;  what  is 
it  to  fasten  that  door  ajar  for  an  unlimited  thor- 
oughfare of  temptation  and  sin  ?  To  shut  up  a 
single  day  to  the  impossibility  of  any  degree  of 
true  virtue,  and  for  that  day  to  strike  at  the  root 
of  all  true  virtue  in  the  world,  is  a  calamity  ;  what 
is  it  to  expand  that  impossibility  and  that  utter 
assault  like  a  Dead  Sea  over  vast  districts  which 
but  for  it  would  have  been  as  fair  and  fertile  as 
the  vale  of  Siddim  ? 

The  considerations  just  stated  are  not  at  all 
hard  to  be  understood.  They  are  such  as  a  little 
thought  and  openness  of  eye  would  show  to  all. 
All  actually  know  them,  or  should  know  them  ; 
and  so  should  know  that  alienation  (to  say  noth- 
ing of  hostility)  from  God,  in  its  nature,  is  an  evil 
black  as  night  and  bitter  as  death.  And  it  is  not 
a  necessary  evil.  Smite  on  both  cheeks  the  phi- 
losophy that  says  it  is.  By  grace  of  God  our  wills 
can  triumph  over  it.  As  I  have  shown,  there  is  a 
way  by  which  men  can  even  triumph  over  a  posi- 


158  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

tive  enmity  to  God  and  put  love  in  its  place.  They 
have  done  it.  How  much  more  can  they  do  as 
against  simple  alienation  .-*  Being  thus  voluntary, 
the  great  evil  is  a  great  guilt  wherever  tolerated. 
I  must  call  it  hard  names  in  order  to  be  just  or 
Scriptural.  It  is  a  leprosy,  a  plague,  a  viper,  a 
dragon,  a  Satan.  Only  it  is  Satan  in  the  seed, 
A  plenty  of  development  gives  us  him  who  set  all 
Heaven  aflame  with  war  against  the  Most  High, 
and  then  fell  like  lightning  from  his  sphere. 


X. 
THE    DIVINE    BALANCE. 


X. 

THE  DIVINE  BALANCE. 

''  I  ^HOU  ART  WEIGHED    IN    THE    BALANCES    AND 

-*-  ART  FOUND  WANTING.  What  was  Weighed  ? 
Not  the  riches  of  Belshazzar.  These  were  very 
great ;  he  could  not  have  been  found  wanting  in 
respect  to  gold  and  silver  and  jewels  and  palaces. 
Not  his  station  and  honor  and  power.  He  was  a 
monarch,  an  absolute  monarch,  and,  at  the  mo- 
ment the  words  were  written,  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  lives  were  at  his  beck.  What  was  it, 
then,  that  was  weighed.'*  It  was  himself  —  his 
soul,  his  character,  his  true  self.  This  was  found 
wanting.  The  scale  in  which  it  was  placed 
sprang  swiftly  aloft. 

I  seem  to  see  a  Divine  Form  seated  on  the 
clouds  and  watching,  as  intently  as  ever  did 
earthly  trader  his  little  scales,  the  oscillations  of  a 
great,  shadowy  Balance  that  hangs  from  His  giant 
hand.  In  one  scale  is  His  law  —  especially  the 
first  and  great  commandment.  In  the  other  is  a 
human  soul.     And  He  is  seeing  how  much  must 


102  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

be  added  to  this  last  scale  to  put  it  in  equilibrium 
with  the  other.  Does  that  soul  weigh  nothing, 
does  it  weigh  something,  does  it  weigh  enough  to 
meet  the  necessities  of  the  case  ? 

Whose  soul  is  that  ?  It  is  Belshazzar's.  It  is 
mine  or  yours.  Nay,  who  does  not  get  weighed 
in  that  august  Balance  that  hangs  trembling  and 
glittering  among  the  clouds.  Good  man  —  thou 
art  weighed.  Bad  man  —  thou  art  weighed.  Ye 
great,  with  golden  circlets  about  your  brows  and 
purple  mantles  depending  —  into  that  scale  ye  are 
cast  notwithstanding  your  greatness.  Ye  small, 
without  name  or  glitter  or  consideration  —  into 
that  scale  ye  go  notwithstanding  your  littleness. 
"  The  Lord  searcheth  all  hearts."  "  Neither  is 
there  any  creature  that  is  not  manifest  in  His 
sight,  but  all  things  are  naked  and  opened  unto  the 
eyes  of  Him  with  whom  we  have  to  do."  So  it  is 
a  sure  matter  that  God  tries  the  reins  of  all  the 
children  of  men.  Never  a  moment  but  that  great, 
spiritual  Balance  among  the  clouds  is  trembling 
with  the  thoughts  and  feelings  and  actions  of  us 
all  ;  and  is  giving  forth,  flood  on  flood,  its  silent 
decisions. 

By  no  means  does  yon  man  feel  as  if  now  sus- 
pended in  God's  Balance.     He  is  thinking  of  any- 


THE   DIVINE  BALANCE.  1 63 

thing  else.  He  is  contriving  certain  plans  —  per- 
haps none  of  the  most  upright.  He  is  carrying  into 
effect  certain  projects  —  perhaps  in  not  the  most 
upright  ways.  And  all  the  while  it  never  enters 
his  thought  that  he  is  being  poised  and  estimated, 
up  yonder  among  the  clouds,  as  truly  as  any  com- 
modity is  being  weighed  out  to  the  buyer  in  the 
marts  below.  Yet  so  it  is.  The  law  in  the  one 
scale,  the  man  in  the  other,  and  great  God  bend- 
ing over  the  two  to  see  how  they  compare  !  Ah, 
who  of  us  realizes  it  as  he  should  !  Some  of  us 
think  of  it  now  and  then  ;  it  forms  a  part  of  our 
confessions  of  faith  ;  we  pronounce  a  man  little 
better  than  a  heathen  who  denies  it  ;  but  really 
the  most  of  the  time  we  forget  the  Balance  and 
that  we  are  in  it.  Quicker  than  a  flash,  no  sooner 
is  a  thought  or  feeling  or  intention  born  to  us  than 
it  is  caught  up  and  cast  into  the  constellation 
Libra  —  up  there  among  the  stars  where  it  glit- 
ters and  decides  —  but  we,  short-sighted  creat- 
ures, if  we  happen  to  quicken  half  a  dozen  times 
a  day  to  the  fact,  are  thought  to  be  becoming 
unusually  thoughtful  and  devout.  Shut  your  eyes 
and  the  weighing  still  goes  on.  Bury  yourself 
ten  thousand  fathoms  deep  in  worldly  cares  or 
thoughtlessness,  and  still  the  great  weighing  goes 


164  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

on.  Whether  we  notice  it  and  tremble,  or  fail  to 
notice  it  and  make  merry  ;  we  fill  our  places  in 
the  scale  all  the  same.  The  weight  of  our  bodies 
is  never  taken  without  our  being  aware  of  the  fact. 
We  feel  the  touch  of  the  balance.  We  see  the 
rising  and  settling  of  the  beam.  But  here  all  is 
invisible  ;  and  the  Divine  Balance  up  yonder  re- 
ceives us,  and  the  lever  swings,  and  our  characters 
and  lives  go  up  or  down  (perhaps  strike  the  beam 
with  the  sudden  violence  of  a  thunder  clap),  and 
yet  perhaps  not  a  ripple  of  the  fact  travels  to  our 
perception. 

None  can  help  being  weighed  in  this  unseen 
Balance.  If  you  do  not  want  your  body  weighed, 
weighed  it  will  not  be.  Say  No  to  your  friends 
and  neighbors  and  they  will  hardly  compel  you 
to  enter  the  scale  and  show  them  whether  your 
weight  is  so  much,  or  only  so  much.  Should 
force  be  used,  you  can  almost  always  defeat  its 
object  by  sudden  and  various  struggles.  They 
cannot  weigh  you  unless  you  are  willing  to  be 
weighed.  But  God  can  and  will  —  in  that  soul- 
weighing  Balance  of  His  that  glitters  and  decides 
among  the  clouds.  Belshazzar  would  not  have 
entered  the  scale  could  he  have  helped  it.  Some 
of  us  would  not  enter  it  could  we  help  it.     But 


THE   DIVINE   BALANCE.  1 65 

what  can  we  do  ?  The  ahnighty  will  is  that  every 
soul  shall  be  set  over  against  the  Divine  Law  for 
purpose  of  comparison  ;  and  our  most  desperate 
struggles  cannot  even  embarrass  that  comparison. 
Into  the  scale  we  go,  willing  or  unwilling  ;  not 
even  a  single  little  thought  can  we  keep  back 
from  the  sweeping  verdict  of  that  scaled  beam 
which,  firmly  held  in  the  Almighty  hand,  ceases 
not  to  travel  up  and  down,  in  silent  but  terrible 
glitter,  the  cloudy  hights  of  our  sky.  Can  you 
hide  from  those  devouring  scales .-'  Can  you 
pluck  them  down  from  their  high  places  and  abol- 
ish them  .-*  Can  you  pray  yourself  out  of  them  } 
What  can  you  do  .-'  Nothing.  You  cannot  help 
yourself,  and  nobody  can  help  you.  You  must 
take  the  lot  of  all  who  have  gone  before  you,  the 
lot  of  all  who  shall  come  after  you  —  and  be 
weighed.  And  as  that  great  beam  sways  up  and 
down  the  sky  in  verdict  on  all  that  you  are  and 
do,  you  may  comfort  yourself  with  the  thought,  if 
comfort  it  be,  that  your  case  is  not  exceptional  — 
that  the  same  beam  sways  in  its  silent  but  terrible 
glitte^  for  all,   choose  they,  refuse  they. 

The  weight  of  each  character  is  given  with 
wonderful  accuracy.  Never  so  delicate  a  balance 
as  this.     It  will  weigh  the  smallest  thought,  the 


1 66  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

subtlest  motive.  Quantities  that  men  in  estima- 
ting each  other  always  neglect  as  of  no  account 
—  indeed  quantities  too  small  for  human  sight  or 
even  for  human  science  —  are  always  noted  with- 
out difficulty  and  to  the  very  last  figure  by  that 
most  sensitive  of  all  known  balances.  How  that 
druggist  prides  himself  on  the  delicate  scales  with 
which  he  estimates  the  most  homeopathic  doses  ! 
He  wants  nothing  more  sensitive.  How  that 
philosopher  prides  himself  on  his  Ramsden  or 
Torsion,  encased  in  glass  and  feeling  the  thou- 
sandth of  a  grain  !  It  is  wonderful.  Call  it  a  mir- 
acle of  the  mechanic  arts.  But  it  is  so  much  less 
wonderful  than  the  Balance  that  weighed  Belshaz- 
zar,  and  that  weighs  you  and  me,  that  I  for  one 
make  no  account  of  it.  The  thousandth  part  of  a 
grain !  Why,  yon  Balance  in  the  sky  that  I  trust 
you  plainly  see,  will  stagger  under  the  thousand 
millionth  part  of  a  grain.  It  will  feel  the  weight 
of  a  shadow,  will  move  with  a  next  to  nothing. 
No  one  may  flatter  himself  that  the  smallest  atom 
of  his  sinfulness  will  escape  detection.  Can  he 
lengthen  his  arm  of  the  lever  .-•  Can  he  lighten 
the  weights.''  Can  he  confuse  or  bribe  or  frighten 
the  Weigher  —  as  He  sits  on  His  cloudy  throne, 
holding  in  omnipotent  hand  and  watching  with 
omniscient  eye  the  rising  and  sinking  fates  } 


THE  DIVINE  BALANCE.  1 6/ 

Why  this  universal,  inexorable,  and  most  accu- 
rate weighing  of  human  character  ?  Does  God 
weigh  souls  as  men  sometimes  do  bodies  — 
from  mere  curiosity  ?  Has  He  filled  the  great 
scale  with  our  conduct  and  hearts  because  He  is 
speculatively  curious  to  know  whether  they  will 
figure  up  to  so  much,  or  only  to  so  much  ?  The 
fact  is,  God  has  determined  to  hold  men  respon- 
sible for  their  weight.  He  must  do  so.  His 
kingdom  cannot  stand  unless  He  treat  men  ac- 
cording to  character.  So  He  has  appointed  a 
day  for  bringing  every  work  into  judgment,  and 
every  secret  thing,  whether  it  be  good  or  evil. 
Here  is  the  secret  of  that  wonderful  Balance. 
God  means  to  judge  and  punish  and  reward 
justly  ;  so  He  hangs  out  His  glittering  scales  and 
takes  close  account  of  our  moral  and  religious 
condition,  moment  by  moment.  How  far  does  it 
go  toward  equilibrium  with  a  perfect  law  }  Such 
is  the  question  He  is  bent  on  answering  to  the 
last  tittle.  But  oh,  not  in  the  spirit  in  which  the 
I)hilosopher  weighs  the  hydrogen  or  the  planet  — 
the  spirit  of  scientific  curiosity,  the  spirit  that  had 
as  lief  find  one  thing  as  another  provided  it  only 
find  the  truth.  God  has  a  strong  preference  as  to 
what  He  shall  find  when  He  poises  on  high  our 


1 68  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

conduct  and  character.  He  wants  to  see  them  as 
heavy  as  possible.  Though  they  weigh  Hke 
worlds,  all  the  better.  They  shall  strain  neither 
His  wonderful  scales  nor  His  wonderful  arm.  He 
abhors  light  weight.  A  character  that  is  mere 
feather  and  thistle-down  He  hates  to  find.  He 
does  sometimes  find  men  "  lighter  than  vanity  ;  " 
the  scale  in  which  they  are  cast  springs  suddenly 
aloft  with  terrible  force  ;  they  are  chaff  of  zeroes 
which  a  breath  sets  afloat ;  but  this  is  the  sort  of 
finding  that  seems  to  Him  inexpressibly  melan- 
choly and  displeases  Him  beyond  everything. 
For  His  weighing  looks  hard  toward  a  judgment 
day.  He  must  at  last  treat  men  according  to 
their  weight.  If  they  weigh  lightly  they  will  suf- 
fer for  it  —  if  heavily  they  will  be  rewarded  for  it. 
For  this  is  character,  and  not  matter,  that  God  is 
poising  aloft.  Man  shall  not  be  held  responsible 
for  the  gravity  of  his  flesh  and  blood ;  and 
whether  the  testing  scales  credit  him  with  tens  or 
with  hundreds  of  pounds  he  shall  return  to  his 
business  alike  unblamed  and  unblamable.  Not  so 
when  character  goes  into  the  Balance.  Now  the 
man  shall  be  held  responsible  for  the  figures.  Let 
him  weigh  lightly  at  his  peril.  One  must  come 
up  to  a  given  standard  under  an  awful  penalty. 


THE   DIVINE   BALANCE.  169 

It  is  not  necessary  for  him  to  be  personally  in 
perfect  equilibrium  with  the  Divine  law  ;  but  a 
certain  weight  he  must  have.  He  must  have  that 
which  belongs  to  a  penitent  and  believing  charac- 
ter. This  indeed  is  far  from  being  a  full  offset  to 
a  perfect  law,  but  then  the  Great  Weigher  can  and 
will  cast  into  the  same  scale  a  Something  that  is 
sure  to  make  equilibrium.  Penitence  itself  is 
heavy.  There  is  inexpressible  gravity  in  it.  It 
makes  a  character  otherwise  light  press  like  lead 
in  the  scales  of  God.  And  when  a  certain  great 
Sacrifice  is  added  to  it,  it  is  every  whit  as  heavy 
as  all  the  ten  commandments.  Up  to  this  stand- 
ard weight  every  human  being  must  see  to  it  that 
he  comes.  No  excuse  will  be  taken.  No  compro- 
mise will  be  made.  There  is  no  telling  the  amount 
of  evil  that  will  come  upon  you  unless  you  press 
that  mysterious  Balance  which  glitters  among  the 
clouds  with  the  full  weight  of  a  penitent  and  be- 
lieving sinner.  Now  God's  hand  bears  hard  on 
your  scale.  He  is  giving  you  time  to  throw  godly 
sorrow  and  faith  into  it.  If  you  fail  to  do  it.  He 
will  some  day  remove  His  hand,  and  then  your 
scale  will  leap  suddenly  aloft  with  angry  glitter  and 
terrible  shock,  and  cast  you  out  —  Whither  } 
What  various  verdicts    that  Heavenly  Balance 


I/O  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

actually  pronounces  on  men  !  None  weigh  as 
much  as  they  ought.  But  some  are  far  heavier 
than  others.  Some  weigh  like  prophets  and  apos- 
tles ;  others  like  Belshazzars  and  Judases.  Some 
weigh  enough  to  be  saved  —  thanks  to  a  heavy 
Atonement  mercifully  cast  into  their  scale  — 
others  weigh  so  little  as  to  be  lost.  Nothing,  less 
than  nothing  and  vanity.  Up  goes  the  glittering, 
terrible  beam  on  their  side — down  goes  the  glit- 
tering, terrible  beam  on  the  side  of  the  Holy  Law. 
The  great  shock  shoots  them  forth  in  dreadful 
parabola.     Whither  .? 

To  which  of  these  classes  do  you  belong .-'  Is 
your  character  heavy  enough  to  pass  the  ordeal  of 
)  onder  Balance  .-'  Have  you  taken  care  to  have 
your  character  bear  down  strongly  by  means  of 
that  supplementary  weight  which  God  gives  to 
penitent  and  believing  sinners  .''  This  is  the  su- 
preme question.  Naturally  we  are  all  ivaiiti/ig  — 
by  nature  children  of  jvrath  —  has  the  natural 
deficiency  been  supplied  by  grace  and  a  gracious 
repentance  .'*  Perhaps  the  vapors  that  rise  from 
your  business  or  busy  diversions  are  hiding  from 
view  the  great  Sky-Balance  ;  and  though  you  see 
no  penitence  and  faith  in  your  heart  you  are  not : 
disturbed  because  neither  do  you  see  that  stern 


THE  DIVINE  BALANCE.  iji 

weighing  of  yourself  that  is  going  on  in  your  be- 
clouded heaven.  If  so  make  an  effort  to  put  away 
the  concealing  clouds.  It  much  concerns  you  to 
see,  and  to  keep  in  sight,  that  mighty  Balance 
from  which  none  can  escape.  Forget  all  other 
scales,  if  need  be,  in  order  to  remember  this. 
And  remember  that  it  has  pronounced  you,  if  you 
are  still  in  your  natural  state,  a  disloyal  subject  of 
God  —  especially  as  to  the  first  and  great  com- 
mandment. 


XI. 
DIVINE  ECONOMY  OF  REPRISALS. 


XI. 

DIVINE  ECONOMY  OF  REPRISALS. 

TT  7E  are  strongly,  inclined  to  treat  others  as 
they  treat  us.  If  they  injure  us  we  are 
roused  to  return  the  injury  :  if  they  do  us  a  favor 
we  feel  pressed  to  do  an  equal  favor  in  return. 
Kind  feelings  and  kind  words,  almost  as  a  matter 
of  course,  get  from  us  an  answer  in  kind  ;  while 
ill-will  and  bitter  speech  summon  us  up  to  an  an- 
swering bitterness.  Retaliation  is  the  habit  of 
human  nature  in  its  fallen  state. 

Moreover,  society,  as  such,  sustains  itself  on  the 
same  principle.  In  the  case  of  men  considered 
merely  as  individuals,  the  practice  of  doing  to 
others  as  they  do  to  us  is  a  bad  one  ;  in  the  case 
of  men  considered  as  a  society,  it  is  even  a  neces- 
sary means  of  self-preservation.  The  family  is 
kept  together  in  comfort  and  thrift  only  when  the 
parent  wisely  requites  the  evil  of  his  children  with 
evil  and  their  good  with  good.  The  state  is  kept 
in  order  only  when  the  ruler  requites  the  evil  and 
the  good  of  his  subjects  with  answering  evil  and 


176  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

good.  Whether  the  ruler  be  father,  school-master, 
or  king,  he  must  take  account  of  how  those  under 
him  behave,  and  must  make  himself  by  mingled 
penalties  and  rewards  a  terror  to  evil-doers  and  a 
praise  to  such  as  do  well.  Else  society  will  fall 
to  pieces.  And  the  pieces  will  fight  each  other 
into  the  worst  sort  of  chaos. 

The  fallen  state  of  human  nature  requires  that 
human  governments  of  all  sorts  plant  themselves 
on  a  system  of  retaliation.  A  similar  system 
lies  at  the  foundation  of  the  Divine  Govern- 
ment over  men.  "  He  will  not  turn  away  His 
face  from  you,  if  ye  return  unto  Him."  Suppose 
Israel  will  not  return.  Then,  of  course,  God's 
face  will  be  turned  away.  Here  is  retaliation  —  a 
holy  retaliation  doubtless,  but  still  a  real  one. 
God  will  treat  the  people  somewhat  as  they  treat 
Him.  If  they  betake  themselves  to  loving  and 
serving  Him,  He  will  smile  on  them  —  if  they  re- 
fuse or  neglect,  He  will  frown  on  them.  "  Return 
unto  me  and  I  will  return  unto  you  ;  forsake  me 
and  I  will  forsake  you "  —  this  is  the  avowed 
principle  on  which  God  treated  Israel  through 
the  whole  course  of  their  history.  Of  course  He 
does  not  treat  the  world  at  large  on  any  milder 
system.     Men    are   to   reap   as    they   sow.      The 


DIVINE   ECONOMY  OE  REPRISALS.  1 77 

recompense  of  a  man's  hand  shall  be  rendered  to 
him.  "  According  to  our  deeds  accordingly  He 
will  repay,  fury  to  His  adversaries,  recompense  to 
His  enemies  ;  to  the  islands  He  will  repay  recom- 
pense." One  prophet  styles  God  a  "  God  of  rec- 
ompenses ; "  and  the  more  we  study  His  provi- 
dence the  better  satisfied  we  shall  be  that  He  well 
deserves  the  title.  "An  eye  for  an  eye  and  a 
tooth  for  a  tooth,"  is  the  principle  on  which  God 
governs  us.  Raise  your  hand  against  Him,  and 
He  will  raise  hand  against  you.  Neglect  Him, 
and  when  your  time  of  need  comes  He  will  neg- 
lect you.  Love  Him  as  father,  and  He  will  love 
you  as  children.  Consult  His  pleasure  and  inter- 
est in  what  you  do,  and  He  will  consult  your 
profit  and  happiness  in  all  that  He  does.  To  all 
your  conduct,  as  far  as  it  bears  on  Him,  there  will 
be  an  echo  from  heaven.  This  echo  may  not  come 
promptly  ;  after  the  manner  of  echoes,  its  coming 
may  be  delayed  by  various  circumstances  ;  but  at 
last  your  ear  will  be  reached.  The  rash  traveler 
who  casts  up  a  stone  against  the  mighty  cliff 
which  overhangs  him  will  bring  down  another 
stone  on  himself ;  and  the  arrow  shot  toward 
Heaven  will  dislodge  and  bring  down  another  ar- 
row, sharp  and  bright  from  the  Divine  arsenal. 


178  PARISH  CHRISTTANTTY. 

If  any  should  say  that  such  a  principle  of  retal- 
iation in  the  Divine  Government  cannot  be  made 
out  by  observ^ation,  I  am  free  to  allow  that  it  can- 
not. There  is  no  visible  respect  always  paid  to 
character  in  the  distribution  of  good  and  evil  by 
Providence  in  this  world.  It  does  not  however 
follow  that  no  such  respect  exists  because  none  is 
noticed  just  at  present.  But  a  small  part  of  any 
man's  career  has  yet  come  under  observation. 
The  recompensing  blessing  or  trial  which  has  not 
yet  arrived  may  be  on  its  way  —  may  have  been 
on  its  way  ever  since  the  act  to  which  it  answers 
took  place  —  like  the  ray  of  light  which  at  that 
moment  left  some  far  star  and  is  yet  shooting  to- 
ward us,  destined  to  reach  us  perhaps  a  year 
hence.  Also,  it  may  be  fairly  presumed  that 
many  of  God's  recompenses  take  effect  only  in- 
wardly and  invisibly.  No  amount  of  looking  can 
discover  them,  for  their  place  is  deep  within  the 
closed  heart.  The  unwindowed  walls  of  flesh  and 
blood  hide  from  prying  eyes  what  is  passing 
within  —  perhaps  a  crucifixion,  perhaps  a  corona- 
tion. Again,  many  trials  and  blessings  may  rea- 
sonably be  supposed  to  be  mere  correctives, 
means  of  moral  improvement  ;  having  nothing  of 
the  character  of  proportionate  requitals  for  the 


D/VLVE  ECONOMY  OF  REPRISALS.  1 79 

good  and  evil  of  those  experiencing  them.  So 
that  one  can  never  infer  that  because  the  tower 
of  Siloam  fell  on  eighteen  men  and  slew  them 
they  were  sinners  above  other  Galileans,  or  that 
because  Austria  prevailed  over  Hungary  the 
stronger  had  the  better  cause. 

"  But  is  it  not  wrong  for  man  to  render  evil  for 
evil?  Nay,  is  it  not  even  his  duty  to  repay  evil 
with  good  —  to  love  them  that  hate  him,  and  to 
pray  for  those  who  despitefully  use  and  persecute 
him  ?  Is  it  wicked  for  me  to  retaliate,  and  right- 
eous for  God  to  do  it  ?  "  Yes,  wicked  for  you  as 
an  individual  —  righteous  for  God  as  a  magistrate. 
The  human  parent  or  king,  as  such,  is  bound  to 
have  his  system  of  requital  in  kind  ;  neither  fam- 
ily nor  state  can  prosper  without  it.  And  if  it  is 
in  either  of  these  characters  that  God  retaliates, 
while  simply  as  a  being  He  would  crave  and  seek 
the  happiness  of  all,  no  fault  can  be  found.  It  is 
all  righteous  and  even  indispensable. 

Having  fixed  in  our  minds  that  we  have  a  God 
of  recompenses,  let  us  proceed  to  look  more  nar- 
rowly into  the  nature  of  His  system  of  reprisals. 
The  matter  of  the  reprisal  is  plain  :  it  is  evil  for 
evil,  good  for  good.  As  to  the  degree  of  it,  it  is 
equally  plain  that  He  must  render  to  men  in  pro- 


l8o  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

portion  as  they  render  to  Him.  The  worse  a  man 
treats  God  the  worse  will  God  treat  him  :  and  the 
better  a  man  treats  God  the  better  will  God  treat 
him.  He  does  not  give  the  smaller  sin  the  severer 
smiting  :  He  never  gives  the  greater  virtue  the  less 
approval.  "  To  whomsoever  much  is  given,  of  him 
shall  much  be  required  "  —  see  the  plain  principle 
of  equitable  proportion  !  As  the  father  punishes 
gross  disobedience  in  his  children  heavily  and 
slight  disobedience  slightly  ;  as  the  law  of  the  land 
visits  for  murder  with  death  and  for  theft  with 
short  imprisonment  ;  so  the  Divine  Father  and 
Lawgiver  proportions  what  He  renders  to  what 
He  receives.  The  great  offender  shall  be  beaten 
with  many  stripes  ;  the  comparatively  small  of- 
fender with  few  stripes.  The  louder  our  feelings 
and  acts  speak  against  God,  the  louder  the  echo 
which  is  flung  back  on  us  from  the  sky.  A  sin- 
gle missile  feebly  thrown  up  against  the  mountain 
side  will  bring  down  on  you  but  a  single  stone  ; 
while  a  shower  of  missiles  fiercely  sent  will  fill  all 
the  air  with  stony  retaliations.  The  more  turf  and 
stones  yon  traveler  casts  into  the  volcano  or  the 
geyser  of  God's  government  the  louder  and  fiercer 
will  be  the  eruption.  O  all  ye  Chorazins  and 
Bethsaidas,  much  more  tolerable  shall  it  be  for 


DIVINE  ECONOMY  OF  REPRISALS.  l8l 

Sodom  and  Gomorrah  than  for  you  ;  for  you  have 
given  God  a  more  direct  insult  and  decided  rejec- 
tion than  they  ;  and  His  purpose  is  to  treat  men 
according"  to  their  works. 

The  retaUations  of  God  are  noticeably  distin- 
guished from  those  of  men  by  \\\.€\x  perfect  siireness. 
Men  sometimes  forget  the  ill-will  or  good-will  of 
which  they  are  the  objects,  the  benefits  or  injuries 
they  have  received  ;  and  so  do  not  deal  forth  the 
recompensing  good  or  evil.  But  God  never  for- 
gets the  aversion  or  the  love,  the  obedience  or  the 
disobedience.  Some  men  are  unstable  of  purpose 
or  wanting  in  power  ;  and  so  fail  to  carry  out  the 
retaliations  they  have  intended.  Very  often  par- 
ents' hearts  fail  them  when  it  comes  to  the  point 
of  laying  on  their  children  the  stripes  they  have 
deserved.  Occasionally,  the  civil  power  finds  it- 
self not  strong  enough  to  deal  with  some  powerful 
offender,  and  so  allows  him  to  have  his  disobedi- 
ence without  his  punishment.  But  God's  retalia- 
tions will  be  hampered  with  no  weak  tenderness. 
No  creature-strength  is  great  enough  to  fight  off, 
or  frighten  off,  His  retributions.  Nor  has  an  of- 
fender anything  to  hope  from  an  infirmity  of  the 
Divine  purpose.  To  know  that  God  is  bent  on  re- 
prisals is  to  know  that  the  reprisals  will  take  place 


1 82  PARISH  CHRTSTIANITY. 

without  fail.  The  most  iron  firmness  of  resolu- 
tion ever  shown  by  man  is  merest  fickleness  over 
against  the  mighty  immovableness  we  see  in 
God.  No  reed  shaken  with  the  wind  is  He  ;  but 
a  pillar,  rooted,  erect,  of  mighty  circumference, 
and  fit  to  bear  grandly  up  the  earth  and  heavens 
forever.  He  has  purposed,  He  has  promised,  that 
we  shall  have  from  Him  according  to  the  state  of 
our  hearts  and  the  work  of  our  hands.  "  Hath 
He  said  and  shall  He  not  do  it —  hath  He  spoken 
and  shall  He  not  make  it  good  } "  Sooner  or 
later,  in  this  place  or  in  that,  we  are  certain  to  be 
overtaken  with  the  rebukes  or  the  blessings  suited 
to  the  hearts  we  persist  in  having  and  the  lives 
we  persist  in  living. 

An  important  feature  of  the  retaliation  put  forth 
by  God  among  us  is  its  universality.  It  takes 
effect  on  all  men  without  exception.  None  is  too 
powerful  to  be  smitten  for  his  sins.  None  is  so 
insignificant  as  to  be  overlooked  by  the  All-See- 
ing. However  little  good  a  man  does,  God  will 
see  it  and  bless  him  for  that :  and  however  little 
evil  he  does,  God  will  see  and  rebuke  him  for 
that.  Even  the  little  child  is  not  left  out  from 
the  Divine  economy  of  retaliations.  Nor  the  be- 
nighted heathen.     "  Tribulation   to  every  soul  of 


DIVINE  ECONOMY  OF  RE  PR  IS  A  IS.  1 83 

man  that  doeth  evil,  of  the  Jew  first  and  also  of 
the  Gentile  ;  but  glory,  honor,  and  joeace  to  every 
man  that  doeth  good,  to  the  Jew  first  and  also  of 
the  Gentile."  How  different  the  field  on  which  a 
man  works  out  his  few  and  uncertain  requitals  ! 
Many  may  love  or  hate,  help  or  injure  him,  and 
yet  he  never  know  it.  It  is  impossible  for  him  to 
trace  many  events  which  have  a  decided  bearing 
on  his  interests  to  the  persons  from  whom  they 
sprang.  And  then,  again,  where  his  knowledge 
does  not  fail  him  his  power  often  does.  His  arm 
is  not  long  enough  to  reach  many  known  friends 
and  enemies  who  act  upon  him  from  a  distance. 
It  is  not  strong  enough  to  repay  many  of  his  as- 
sailants —  not  resourceful  enough  to  help  many 
who  yet  have  been  able  to  help  him.  So  that  it  is 
only  a  few  persons,  compared  with  the  whole  num- 
ber of  men,  whom  a  single  person  can  make  the 
objects  of  an  intelligent  and  discriminating  retali- 
ation. But  God,  the  God  of  recompenses,  recom- 
penses on  a  very  different  scale.  His  economy  of 
reprisals  sweeps  the  whole  planet.  It  stretches 
out  a  thousand  hands  and  grasps  all  the  genera- 
tions. He  knows  how  each  one  of  our  thousand 
millions  of  humanity,  all  of  whom  know  Him  or 
should  know   Him,  feels  and  does  towards  Him. 


I  84  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

He  can  reach  them  all.  He  is  strong  enough 
to  do  His  pleasure  on  the  strongest,  wise  enough 
to  defeat  the  evasions  of  the  craftiest,  particular 
enough  to  take  account  of  the  least  thing  done  by 
the  least  of  men.  Nobody  on  the  face  of  the  earth 
is  small  enough  or  great  enough  to  be  outside  of 
that  field  where  God  is  busy  in  rendering  to  every 
man  according  to  his  work. 

As  no  retaliations  made  by  man  can  compare 
with  the  Divine  in  respect  to  the  extent  of  the  field 
covered,  so  none  can  compare  with  them  in  respect 
to  lucight  and  ititensity.  God  being  so  great  and 
glorious,  all  offenses  against  Him  are  vastly  worse 
than  they  would  be  if  committed  against  any  man. 
Bad  treatment  of  a  tender,  self-sacrificing  parent 
is  always  thought  a  wonderfully  greater  crime 
than  like  treatment  of  some  stranger.  Abuse  of 
one  high  in  character  and  station  and  dignity  is 
always  counted  more  scandalous  than  the  same 
offense  against  meaner  men.  Was  it  the  same 
thing  for  Shimei  to  shake  his  clinched  hand  at 
illustrious,  anointed  David  as  it  was  to  shake  it 
at  the  humblest  soldier  on  the  outskirt  of  the 
host }  Was  it  no  worse  for  petted  Absalom  to 
draw  sword  on  his  father  than  it  would  have  been 
for   some  vexed  Philistine  to  do  it .-'     Would    it 


DIVINE  ECONOMY  OF  REPRISALS.  1 85 

have  become  magnificent  Solomon  to  bestow 
such  reward  for  services  rendered  him  as  would 
have  suitably  come  from  a  common  citizen  ?  We 
may  therefore  depend  on  the  Divine  retaliations, 
whether  for  good  or  evil,  being  very  different 
things  in  degree  from  those  which  pass  between 
man  and  man.  The  requitals  of  God  will  have 
something  of  His  greatness  about  them.  They 
will  be  mighty  like  His  own  riches  and  power  and 
good-deservings  at  our  hands.  Who  knows  but 
that  some  of  His  rebukes  and  rewards  will  endure 
like  eternity  }  Who  knows  but  that  some  of  them 
will  shine  and  rejoice  like  heaven,  or  darken  and 
wail  like  hell .? 

Such  is  the  principle  of  retaliation  belonging  to 
the  Divine  Government  over  men.  Really,  surely, 
universally,  and  mightily,  God  treats  men  accord- 
ing as  they  treat  Him.  Let  all  who  are  at  heart 
enemies  of  this  God  of  recompenses,  look  to  it  ! 
Look  to  it  ye  who  do  the  great  sin  of  living  with- 
out God  in  the  world  !  It  is  no  weak  tenderness 
that  sits  on  the  throne  over  us.  Reprisals  !  Re- 
prisals I  Reprisals  !  I  ring  it  in  your  ears  that 
you  may  not  forget  what  is  seemingly  forgotten 
by  so  many.  Do  not  misunderstand  the  system 
under  which  you  are  living.     Do  not  let  the  whole 


t86  PARISH  CIJRISTIANTTY. 

oi:)aque  world  get  between  you  and  God,  and  so 
cut  off  from  view  His  Balance  and  His  sword.  I 
see  them  —  see  you  them  also.  I  fear  them  — 
fear  you  them  as  well.  Not  that  God  is  vindictive. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  carry  such  an  idea.  But  He 
is  Government  —  an  indispensable  Government  — 
and"  must  maintain  Himself  at  all  costs.  And  He 
will.  Never  dream  the  contrary.  Ah,  I  have  seen 
sncJi  dreamers  !  Their  eyes  were  shut  on  actual 
Nature  and  Providence ;  shut  on  the  Bible  with 
its  quite  as  solid  realities  ;  and  their  fancies  went 
and  came  and  built  up  out  of  many  colored  vapors 
a  God  who  is  not  strict  to  mark  iniquity,  and  an 
eternity  overrun  with  indulgence  and  barren  of 
justice  !  What  a  waking  it  will  be !  Have  no 
part  in  it.  See  no  such  "  false  visions  and  causes 
of  banishment."  But  with  eyes  wide  open  see 
God  the  Just  who  will  render  to  every  man  ac- 
cording to  his  work,  and  who  would  sooner  see 
heaven  and  earth  pass  away  than  one  jot  or  tittle 
of  His  law  fail. 


XII. 
THE    GLOOMY    PATH. 


XII. 

THE  GLOOMY  PATH. 

"■  I  ^HE  path  of  sin  shows  marks  of  great  and 
-^  constant  use.  It  is  thoroughly  beaten. 
Plainly  nations  have  been  upon  it  —  and  genera- 
tions. Here  are  tracks  as  old  as  time  and  fresh 
as  the  last  moment  ;  tracks  of  the  young,  and 
tracks  of  the  old  ;  tracks  of  bare  feet,  and  tracks 
of  costly  sandals  ;  the  far-apart  tracks  of  eager 
and  practiced  travelers,  and  the  close-together 
tracks  of  timid  beginners  ;  the  vague  and  shuffled 
tracks  of  the  weak,  and  the  hesitating,  and  the 
sharp,  deep  tracks  of  the  strong  and  decisive. 
Who  has  not  helped  to  make  these  innumerable 
footprints  ?  The  measure  of  every  man's  foot, 
from  Adam  down  to  you  and  me,  might  be  taken 
in  this  broad  and  beaten  path.  The  constant 
pressure  and  friction  of  so  many  feet  have  worn  it 
bare  of  every  green  thing,  and,  just  beneath  the 
powdered  and  printed  surface,  all  is  trampled  and 
compacted  into  stone. 

A  path  so  swarmed  upon  can  hardly  be  with- 


IQO  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

out  some  points  of  attractiveness.  The  public  are 
not  compelled  to  use  it.  They  are  not  shut  in 
upon  it,  and  then  driven  along  like  so  many  help- 
less brutes.  Not  against  desire  and  choice,  but 
because  of  them,  is  this  broad  road  so  trampled 
and  powdered  by  thronging  people.  What  is 
there  so  attractive  about  it }  To  me  it  seems 
gloomy.  Why  is  it  so  crowded  and  blackened 
with  pilgrims  }  I  take  it  on  me  to  say,  for  tio 
good  reason.  It  ought  to  be  all  overgrown  to 
grass.  It  ought  to  be  an  evergreen.  Not  a  sin- 
gle human  footprint  should  be  found  on  any  part 
of  it. 

There  arc  no  footprints  of  God  upon  it. 

The  command,  "  Be  ye  followers  of  God,"  would 
never  bring  a  man  on  this  path.  Beaten  as  it  is, 
crowded  as  it  is  with  tracks  of  almost  all  sorts,  we 
look  in  vain  through  its  entire  length  for  anything 
like  Divine  footprints.  They  are  not  to  be  found 
at  its  beginning,  its  middle,  or  its  end.  They 
neither  cross  it,  nor  accompany  it,  nor  approach 
it.  Nowhere  in  its  neighborhood  does  a  single 
such  mighty  track  as  Divinity  would  make  print 
the  ground.  Had  the  foot  of  God  ever  been  set 
here  we  could  see  the  deep  track  to-day.  Noth- 
ing could  have  obliterated  it.     The  quaking  way 


THE   GLOOMY  PATH.  191 

would  never  have  forgotten  it.  It  would  be  jar- 
ring still  though  trodden  an  eternity  ago.  No, 
the  print  Divine  is  not  here —  not  the  smallest 
trace  of  it  which  one  may  fall  down  and  kiss  in  all 
this  beaten  way. 

Is  it  no  discredit  to  a  path  that  it  has  not  on  it 
a  trace  of  the  God  whose  steps  are  so  plain  and 
many  over  all  the  fields  of  earth  and  sky  —  that  it 
is  a  path  which  this  most  illustrious  One  can  be 
tempted  by  no  considerations  to  touch  foot  upon  } 
Man  needs  to  walk  by  the  side  of  the  Creator,  to 
be  supported  by  His  strength,  comforted  by  His 
comforts,  defended  by  His  shield.  A  gloomy 
road  it  is  that  parts  us  from  His  company. 

On  this  beaten  Path  are  found  the  footprints  of 
Satan,  and  such  as  Satan. 

Distinct  and  fresh  as  if  made  but  a  moment  ago, 
traversing  the  path  in  every  direction,  overlying 
and  underlying  the  feebler  human  tracks,  are  seen 
the  broad,  deep,  and  ver)^  peculiar  prints  of  the 
great  adversary.  It  is  plain  that  he  has  made 
a  home  of  the  way  from  the  very  first.  His 
tracks  are  below  all  others  and  above  all  others. 
You  can  measure  the  great  strides  by  which 
he  has  come  and  gone  and  come  again  for 
thousands  of  years.     And  no  wonder  that  every- 


192  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

where  on  tnis  great  turnpike  appears  the  ugly 
scar  of  his  ponderous  and  misshapen  foot :  for  it  is 
his  road,  he  was  the  engineer  who  contrived  and 
built  it,  and  he  it  is  who  keeps  it  in  repair.  This, 
albeit  some  say  that  God  built  it ! 

Other  demon  tracks  are  here  also.  Millions  of 
them.  As  many  quite  as  are  the  human  tracks. 
The  tracks  of  Moloch  and  Belial  and  Mammon 
and  Beelzebub  and  a  host  of  lesser  Satans,  crowd 
after  those  of  their  prince.  Here,  too,  are  the 
scars  left  by  murderers  and  robbers  and  traitors  ; 
by  Cains,  dwellers  in  Sodom,  Ahabs,  Judases  ;  by 
the  worst  of  mankind  —  men  hardly  better  than 
the  fiends  whose  tracks  mingle  with  their  own. 

Does  one  want  to  keep  company  with  such 
travelers  .''  Ought  it  not  to  be  set  down  as  against 
any  path  that  it  is  the  choice  of  such  dreadful  feet 
—  and  of  such  a  crowd  of  them  }  Is  it  not  rea- 
sonable for  a  man  to  say,  as  I  do  say  with  all  my 
heart,  that  he  is  not  willing  to  leave  behind  him 
footprints  in  friendly  neighborhood,  and  pointing 
the  same  way,  with  those  of  fiends  on  the  earth 
and  fiends  below  it .''  A  road  managed  and  occu- 
pied in  force  by  such  black  and  terrible  characters 
deserves  to  be  called  gloomy. 

This  beaten  way  is  impressively  warned  against 
'ud  forbidden. 


THE    GLOOMY  PATH.  1 93 

Have  you  never  seen  a  path  at  the  head  of 
which  stood  a  notice-board  with  some  such  in- 
scription as  this,  "  This  road  unsafe,"  "  The  small- 
pox on  this  road,"  "  No  trespassing  on  these  prem- 
ises under  penalty  of  the  law  ? "  Well,  I  have 
seen  such  warnings  posted  at  the  head  and  along 
the  sides  of  the  path  of  sin  —  put  up,  as  I  happen 
to  know,  by  authority  —  no  mere  make-believes, 
but  established  in  good  faith  by  Him  who  is  truth 
itself.  And  all  can  see  them  who  choose.  There 
they  are  —  read  for  yourselves.  "  Refrain  thy 
foot  "  —  "  No  peace  to  the  wicked  "  —  "  Leadeth 
to  destruction  "  —  "  Turn  ye,  for  why  will  ye  die." 
All  along  the  gloomy  way,  at  every  mile-stone, 
such  inscriptions  stare  one  in  the  face.  The  let- 
ters are  large,  are  heavily  drawn,  are  as  legible  as 
ever  printed  language  was,  can  be  read  whole 
leagues  away  with  good  eyes.  Are  these  man's 
work  .?  Believe  it  not.  These  are  the  Bewares  of 
that  great  Friend  whose  smallest  word  is  mighty 
with  meaning.  I  would  not  like  to  travel  a  road 
that  is  headed  and  flanked  with  such  cautions.  I 
will  not.  Are  not  such  posters  a  sufficient  reason 
why  any  one  should  refuse  to  walk  in  such  a 
path  }  Are  they  not  enough  in  themselves  to 
make  the  path  a  gloomy  one  .-*  What  if  we  can- 
13 


194  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

not  see  with  our  own  eyes  anything  so  very  per- 
ilous or  guilty  or  undesirable  about  it  —  is  not 
God's  testimony  quite  as  good  as  our  sight  ?  But 
we  can  see  some  very  unpleasant  things  for  our- 
selves —  and  among  them  that, 

This  broad  and  beaten  Path  slopes  dowmvard 
before  the  traveler,  instead  of  upward. 

It  is  plain  to  see  —  this  is  no  ascending  path. 
One  does  not  go  forward  on  it  to  broader  views, 
and  purer  airs,  and  clearer  vision  ;  as  if  gradually 
rising  into  the  Delectable  Mountains,  whose  sum- 
mits, above  all  cloud  and  damp,  descry  the  gates 
of  the  Celestial  City.  Every  step  forward  brings 
the  traveler  to  a  lower  level  ;  to  a  narrower,  mist- 
ier, sicklier  region.  The  descent,  in  general,  is 
not  abrupt.  In  fact,  it  is  exceedingly  gradual,  so 
as  to  be  almost  imperceptible  for  short  distances. 
Only  when  long  spaces  are  swept  by  the  eye 
does  the  downward  bearing  of  the  road  show  it- 
self. Sweep  far,  however,  and  the  slope  beconies 
very  sensible ;  and  we  satisfy  ourselves  that  one 
has  but  to  continue  traveling  to  reach  at  last  an 
awful  depth  —  depth  of  sin,  error,  and  misery. 
The  gloomy  road  is  always  creeping  further  and , 
further  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth  —  always  for- 
saking the  cheerful  light  more  and  more.     This  is 


THE   GLOOMY  PATH.  195 

what  the  Bible  means  when  it  says  that  evil  men 
wax  worse  and  worse.  This  is  what  the  ancients 
and  experience  mean  when  they  say,  Resist  the 
beginnmgs. 

Some  think  it  easier  to  go  downward  than  up- 
ward. I  do  not  care  to  dispute  them.  Still,  down- 
ward is  an  unfortunate  direction.  One  does  not 
like  to  feel  that  he  is  ever  getting  worse  off  as 
to  all  his  principal  interests.  Still  worse  is  it 
to  be  ever  getting  worse  off.  Every  day  a  little 
further  from  truth  and  goodness  and  God  and 
happiness  —  every  day  marring  one's  situation 
somewhat  instead  of  mending  it !  Not  a  pleas- 
ant thought  to  have  —  and  a  worse  fact. 

This  beaten  Path  is  paififully,  though  in  some 
respects  easily,  traveled. 

Mere  ease  of  putting  one  foot  before  another  is 
only  one  out  of  many  particulars  on  which  the 
comfort  of  a  path  depends.  Is  it  well  lighted, 
healthy,  well-watered  and  provisioned,  inexpensive, 
safe  .-*  Or  is  it  the  opposite  of  all  these }  There 
is  a  road  through  the  Roman  Campagna,  called 
the  Aurelian.  It  is  well-built,  broad,  smooth. 
I  rode  over  it  with  few  jolts,  and  with  great  ra- 
pidity. But  I  traveled  by  night.  In  the  pale 
starlight,  by  the  "  struggling  moonbeams'  misty 


196  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

light,"  I  saw  right  and  left,  as  I  dashed  along, 
great  stretches  of  barrens  :  no  fair  homes,  no 
flocks  and  herds,  no  streams  and  fountains,  no 
granaries  and  markets  and  hospitable  shelters. 
Through  the  windows  of  the  diligence,  at  every 
stage,  poured  in  extortionate  demands  from  the 
already  overpaid  harpies  who  managed  and  in- 
fested the  road.  And,  all  the  while,  the  hot, 
heavy,  stifling  air  of  the  Pontine  Marshes  was  sift- 
ing into  my  oppressed  lungs  and  aching  veins. 
No  unjolting  swiftness  of  the  travel  paid  me  for 
such  inconveniences.  That  I  moved  so  easily, 
that  I  could  miserably  drowse  as  I  went,  did  not 
go  far  toward  reconciling  me  to  the  dark,  dismal, 
expensive,  mephitic,  and  unsafe  road. 

And  such  is  that  broad  and  beaten  path  on 
which  sinners  are  swiftly  going.  The  traveler 
shall  not  be  hindered.  He  shall  have  the  least 
possible  shaking  on  this  ancient,  smooth,  and  well- 
built  highway.  His  advance  shall  be  so  quietly 
made  that  he  can  drowse  away  most  of  his  jour- 
ney —  miserably  drowse,  with  a  half  conscious- 
ness of  a  grim  darkness,  and  a  parched  wilderness, 
and  ruinous  exactions,  and  pitiless  brigands,  and 
deadly  gases  crowding  in  on  him  from  all  sides. 
The  way  of  sin   is  always  cloud-beset  and  night- 


THE   GLOOMY  PATH.  197 

beset.  No  traveler  ever  knew  heavenly  sunlight 
stream  on  it  for  a  moment.  The  only  light  it  gets 
from  above  is  from  the  lightnings.  Ignes  Fatui, 
blue-flamed  volcanoes,  here  and  there  a  faint 
earthly  lantern,  cast  on  it  their  vague  and  sickly 
rays.  The  concave  that  arches  it  is  ever  black 
with  Divine  disfavor,  rebuke,  threat,  judgments. 
Not  a  breath  of  pure  air  blows  across  the  gloom. 
It  is  all  charged  with  noxious  gases  —  with 
tainted  breath  of  Satan  and  his  demons.  Its 
travelers  are  sick.  There  is  not  a  sound  person 
among  them  ;  not  one  who  does  not  sorely  need  a 
physician.  And  how  should  there  be,  with  such 
a  diseased  and  typhus-reeking  atmosphere  }  All 
the  dens  of  city  and  country,  all  the  garbage  and 
refuse  and  sewarage  of  the  entire  world,  are  on 
this  thoroughfare  —  why  should  it  not  be  malari- 
ous .''  The  constant  business  of  all  who  travel  it 
is  to  produce  what  God  considers  and  expressly 
calls  "corruption,"  "  uncleanness,"  "pollution," 
"vileness,"  "  abominableness"  —  how  should  it  not 
be  distempered  and  infectious  .''  In  speaking  of 
the  path  of  sin  as  being  waterless,  and  foodless, 
and  shelterless,  I  speak  of  things  as  God  sees 
them  and  as  they  really  are  ;  not  as  they  may 
seem  to  a  diseased  and  delirious  fancy.     For  aught 


198  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

I  know,  that  desert  Campagna  has  seemed  fair  and 
fertile  to  some.  The  dreadful  Sahara  itself  has 
seemed  to  many  a  disordered  eye  to  be  stocked 
with  waters  and  meadows  and  gardens  and  cities. 
But  what  of  that .''  Do  I  not  know  that  it  is  all 
an  illusion  ">.  And  if  any  suppose  that  the  way 
of  transgressors  is  easy,  and  stocked  or  skirted 
with  real  satisfactions  (as  no  doubt  many  do), 
do  I  not  know  that  never  was  grosser  mistake  ; 
that  what  seem  delicious  running  waters  are  not 
so  ;  that  what  seems  wheat  is  mere  chaff  ;  that 
what  seem  bowers  and  gardens  is  positively  noth- 
ing but  cloud  —  and  storm-cloud  at  that  .■'  He 
who  knows  says,  TJie  ivay  of  transgressors  is  hard. 
I  believe  Him.  Its  satisfactions  are  hollow,  its 
pleasures  are  bitter,  its  fruit  (just  as  soon  as  you 
break  the  painted  and  glossy  rind)  mere  dust  and 
ashes  on  the  disappointed  tongue.  If  the  first 
taste  is  sweet,  afterward  the  mouth  is  filled  with 
gravel. 

Besides,  never  was  known  so  costly  a  road  ; 
that  is,  one  so  expensive  to  travel  upon.  It  wears 
out  and  dilapidates  human  nature  beyond  all  ac- 
covuit.  You  pay  such  tolls  and  fares  for  the  priv- 
ilege of  going  on  it  as  no  purse  can  stand,  as 
never  road  demanded  before  —  a  wealth  of  moral 


THE   GLOOMY  PATH.  199 

capacities,  opportunities,  usefulness,  enjo3'ment, 
heavenly  favor.  The  gold  flows  from  one  in  a 
steady  stream.  It  evaporates  from  him  at  every 
pore  ;  and  no  power  on  earth  can  stop  the  ex- 
haustive process  so  long  as  the  traveling  contin- 
ues. The  world  robs  him  and  Satan  robs  him. 
All  the  winds  of  Heaven  rob  him.  He  robs  him- 
self. He  is  losing  something  valuable  out  of  his 
moral  nature  every  moment.  However  wide  and 
deep  his  treasury,  he  cannot  pass  a  life-time  on 
this  road  without  finding  himself  in  straits  and 
rags  at  last.  A  rich  man  never  died  upon  it.  All 
its  travelers  die  paupers.  And  this,  though  not  a 
few  of  them,  on  their  very  last  day,  congratulate 
themselves  and  are  congratulated  by  others  after 
the  old  way,  "  Soul,  thou  hast  much  goods  laid  up 
for  many  years  ;  take  thine  ease,  eat,  drink,  and 
be  merry  "  —  flattering  themselves  that  they  are 
'  rich  and  increased  in  goods  and  have  need  of 
nothing,  while  actually  wretched  and  miserable 
and  poor  and  blind  and  naked.'  Who  travels  on 
Satan's  territory  is  specially  at  Satan's  mercy  ; 
and  the  tender  mercies  of  the  wicked  are  cruel. 
He  is  also  specially  at  God's  mercy,  at  His  tmcove- 
nantcd  mercy  —  say,  trembling  at  the  gates  of 
His  justice  and  judgments.     What  may  not  hap- 


200  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

pen  to  such  a  man  ?  What  pits  may  not  suddenly 
gape  at  his  feet  ?  What  stormy  disasters  may 
not  suddenly  roar  and  flash  about  him  ?  Who 
would  like  to  guarantee  him  against  falling  at  any 
moment  into  the  hands  of  the  living  God  —  that 
fearful  thing  ?  Can  any  imagine  that  the  wicked 
and  the  righteous  are  standing  on  precisely  the 
same  footing  of  safety  with  a  just  and  Almighty 
Heaven  ?  Let  him  whose  course  of  travel  lies 
along  the  broad  and  beaten  way  of  sin  assure  him- 
self that  he  is  hemmed  in  by  perils  and  judgments 
as  no  other  wayfarer  is.  He  cannot  but  be  dimly 
conscious  of  the  fact,  and  so  restless  and  appre- 
hensive. 

Its  course  is  downward,  its  progress  painful, 
and 

Its  cud  is  terrible.  After  descending  for  a 
while,  this  evil  thoroughfare  suddenly  comes  to 
an  end.  It  breaks  off  .squarely  at  the  edge  of  a 
precipice.  Who  ever  measured  the  perpendicular 
face  of  that  precipice  —  rushing  down  and  down, 
seemingly  without  end !  Ah,  my  friend,  this 
broad  road,  this  beaten  road,  this  road  which  it  is 
so  hard  to  turn  men  from,  empties  into  a  bottom- 
less pit.  Suddenly  it  pours  down  the  cliff  all  its 
travelers.     Headlong  they  plunge,  as   men  from 


THE   GLOOMY  PATH.  201 

dizzy  steeples  ;  and  the  dark  receives  and  bides 
them,  as  we  shudderingly  watch  them  shooting 
through  the  air  ;  but  the  air  remains  filled  with 
moans  and  wails  pitched  in  every  possible  key  of 
fright  and  misery.  Will  those  unhappy  travelers 
ever  be  seen  again  ?  Will  they  climb  up  that  face 
of  steepest  and  most  slippery  rock  ?  Never.  You 
see  them  for  the  last  time  —  unless,  indeed,  you 
go  shooting  and  plunging  after  them  from  the 
same  dreadful  brink.  "  Leadeth  to  destruction  " 
—  behold  the  crowning  feature  of  this  thronged 
but  yet  most  evil  road  ;  one  that  begins  badly, 
progresses  worse,  and  ends  worst  of  all !  How- 
ever fair  and  comfortable  and  luxurious  a  road 
may  be  in  the  main,  give  it  such  an  ending  as 
this,  and  you  ought  to  terrify  from  it  every  trav- 
eler. All  is  well  that  ends  well.  All  is  disas- 
trous that  ends  disastrously.  Who  needs  to  know 
more  about  the  path  of  sin  than  the  bare  fact 
that  it  empties  into  death  and  hell }  If  pos- 
sible, leave  it  —  leave  it  instantly.  If  it  weighs 
little  with  you  that  no  footprint  of  God  is  on  this 
road  ;  that  it  is  tracked  all  over  by  the  feet  of 
Satan  and  such  as  Satan  ;  that  it  bristles  with 
Bewares  that  have  great  look  of  genuineness 
and  authority  ;  that  it  slopes  ever  downward    in 


202  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

advance  of  the  traveler  ;  that  it  has  no  real  and 
solid  satisfactions  anywhere  along  it,  but  is  pain- 
fully dark  and  barren  and  mephitic  and  dangerous  ; 
—  if  none  of  these  things  move  you,  at  least  allow 
yourself  to  be  moved  by  considering  what  the  ciui 
of  your  road  will  surely  be.  If  this  is  not  a  mov- 
ing consideration  where  will  you  find  one  ? 


XIII. 
ITS    TERRIBLE    END. 


XIII. 

ITS  TERRIBLE  END. 

"OEHOLD  certain  persons  walking  in  the  midst 
-^^  of  a  rugged  wilderness !  Their  path  creeps 
along  the  bare  rock,  and  up  steep  mountain-sides, 
and  by  the  brinks  of  profound  chasms,  and  down 
slopes  so  smooth  and  steep  and  far-stretching  that 
one  shudders  as  he  looks.  To  highten  the  dan- 
ger, the  way  is  dark  and  slippery.  Dense  and 
deceitful  mists  hang  about  all  objects.  The  foot 
slides  easily  from  its  hold  on  the  moist  rock.  The 
shrub  which  the  hand  instinctively  grasps  at  for 
safety  tears  out  readily  from  its  shallow  and  soft- 
ened bed.  On  all  sides  gloom  and  instability 
haunt  the  steps. 

Such  is  the  region  in  which  are  walking  all 
enemies  of  God.  Nay,  such  is  the  region  in  which 
not  a  few  of  them  are  jninniiig  with  careless  steps. 
"  The  way  of  the  wicked  is  as  darkness."  "  Thou 
hast  set  them  in  slippery  places."  As  might  be 
expected,  the  most  dismal  scenes  are  constantly 
happening.     We  see  the  feet  slide.     We  see  one 


206  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

and  another  suddenly  "  stumble  on  the  dark 
mountains,"  and  disappear  in  black  abysses  which 
promise  never  to  yield  them  up  again.  We  see 
one  and  another  plunging  swiftly  down  terrible 
precipices  as  if  to  be  dashed  in  pieces  at  the 
bottom.  And  we  know  that  the  same  thing  is 
happening  almost  every  moment  in  that  part  of 
the  dark  mountains  which  is  beyond  our  per- 
sonal view.  More  than  this  we  know.  We  know 
that  not  a  single  individual  of  all  the  multitudes 
who  are  now  pressing  along  these  dangerous 
grounds  will,  if  he  continues  on  them,  escape  a 
miserable  end.  In  due  time  all  their  feet  will 
slide.  Some  will  slip  soon.  Others  will  hold  on 
their  way  for  years.  A  few,  after  many  hair- 
breadth escapes,  will  succeed  in  keeping  their 
foothold  for  three-score  years  and  ten.  But  at 
last  all  will  slip  beyond  recovery,  and  shoot  down 
into  the  black  gulfs  that  yawn  on  every  hand. 

It  is  a  sure  matter.  This  sliding  is  not  a  thing 
that  may  be,  it  is  the  thing  that  shall  be.  Never 
was  verdict  of  the  mathematics,  never  decision  of 
fate,  more  iron  and  unyielding  than  that  word  of 
Scripture  which  settles  what  the  end  of  the  wicked 
shall  be.  Let  no  man  delude  himself  for  a  mo- 
ment with   the   idea   that   through    some   happy 


ITS   TERRIBLE   END.  20/ 

chance,  some  shrewd  tactics,  some  Divine  partial- 
ity, some  blessed  someihmg,  the  slippery  way  on 
which  so  many  have  slipped  will  not  finally  see 
him  slip  also.  It  will  —  it  will.  Nothing  under 
the  great  canopy  can  keep  him  always  erect  whom 
God  is  bent  on  prostrating.  He  is  pledged  to 
take  the  sinner's  feet  from  under  him.  He  is 
committed  to  see  that  the  sliding  once  begun  shall 
not  stop  or  linger  till  it  becomes  a  fall,  and  the 
fallen  soul  has  gone  sheer  down  the  dreadful 
depths.  "  Thou  hast  set  them  in  slippery  places  ; 
thou  castest  them  down  into  destruction."  Has 
He  said  and  will  He  not  do  it  .-^  Because  sen- 
tence against  an  evil  work  is  not  executed  speedily, 
therefore  the  hearts  of  the  sons  of  men  are  fully 
set  in  them  to  do  evil.  They  flatter  themselves 
that  in  some  way  the  impunity  which  has  been  so 
long  enjoyed  will  never  fail  them.  But  a  little 
longer  continuance  in  their  present  courses  will 
undeceive  them.  Experience  of  sliding  will  con- 
vince them  of  the  certainty  of  it.  They  will  find 
that  all  the  warnings  they  have  had,  and  to  which 
haply  they  have  closed  their  ears,  were  true  though 
scant  prophecy  ;  that  it  has  never  been  God's  plan 
merely  to  alarm  with  thunder,  but  also  to  smite 
with  the  lightning  ;   that    "  dark  mountains  "  on 


208  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

which  feet  may  stumble,  "  sHppery  paths "  on 
which  they  may  slide,  and  a  "  casting  down  into 
destruction,"  are  not  mere  fancies  of  distempered 
brains,  but  facts  which  it  has  been  their  madness 
to  neglect  ;  that  every  appearance  of  uncertainty 
which  at  any  time  belonged  to  the  disaster  they 
have  reached  was  due  to  their  own  dim-seeing 
hearts  ;  and  that,  all  along,  the  fated  day  of  slid- 
ing has  been  moving  toward  them  with  the  steadi- 
ness and  momentum  of  a  revolving  world. 

Have  some  kept  on  their  feet  long  amid  these 
dark  and  slippery  places  ?  Let  them  not  be  en- 
couraged to  hope  that  they  will  always  be  so  suc- 
cessful. The  day  is  coming  that  will  see  their 
good  fortune  forsake  them  —  will  see  their  feet 
pass  from  under  them  despite  all  the  care  and 
skill  they  can  summon. 

Are  some  moving  along  cojifidently  and  proudly 
—  as  though  they  were  treading  level  highways, 
balustered  on  either  hand,  and  on  which  the  sun 
never  ceases  to  shine  .''  Their  proud  confidence  is 
baseless.  Fate  is  on  her  way.  No  assurance  can 
look  her  out  of  countenance,  and  make  her  step 
hesitate  for  a  single  moment.  In  due  time  she 
will  reach  every  bold  sinner,  and  then  his  step 
will  slide. 


ITS   TERRIBLE   END.  2O9 

Are  some  staying  themselves  on  the  staff  of 
tJiis  ivorld —  the  abundant  mammon,  the  many 
friends,  the  great  places  they  hold  in  society  ? 
Whatever  uses  belong  to  these  things,  that  of 
steadying  the  feet  of  the  wicked  along  the  slippery 
places  of  his  wickedness  is  not  one  of  them.  The 
broken  reed  will  pierce  the  hand  that  uses  it,  and 
will  not  delay  the  sliding  of  the  foot  in  due  time. 

Do  some  of  these  travelers  reckon  vastly  on 
the  Divine  mercy  ?  That  has  held  them  up  long. 
It  may  hold  them  up  a  while  longer.  It  may  en- 
able them  to  pass  some  more  dreadful  brinks  and 
slopes  safely.  But  the  catastrophe  will  come  at 
last.  Suddenly  —  O  merciful  God  !  But  mercy 
has  resigned  its  place  to  justice,  and  prayers 
avail  not.     And  so  the  wicked  feet  must  slide. 

There  will  be  no  exception.  The  same  fate 
will  overtake  all  who  continue  in  this  black  and 
perilous  realm.  None  so  strong,  none  so  intelli- 
gent, none  so  practiced,  none  so  watchful,  as  to 
keep  footing  permanently  on  the  path  that  sinners 
travel.  High-spoken  opposers  of  religion,  the  pro- 
fane swearer,  the  outrageous  sabbath-breaker,  the 
scoffer  at  things  sacred,  the  man  who  deliberately 
sets  himself  to  break  down  moral  principle  in  the 
community,  to  poison  in  the  young  the  fountains 
14 


2IO  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  virtue  and  faith,  and  to  draw  back  to  ways  of 
sin  and  shame  those  who  are  making  the  first 
feeble  efforts  to  forsake  them  —  depend  on  it  they 
will  not  always  go  on  as  they  do  now.  It  will 
not  be  without  effect  that  they  set  their  mouth 
against  the  heavens  and  their  tongue  walketh 
through  the  earth  ;  that  they  devise  mischief  on 
their  beds  and  hunt  every  man  his  brother  with 
a  net.  In  due  time  the  slipperiness  of  their  path 
will  prove  too  hard  for  them.  Their  feet  will  slide 
— slide  down  the  awful  depths. 

And  all  unbelievers  will  share  the  fate  of  all 
disbelievers.  The  doubters  of  the  Bible  hold  on 
the  skirts  of  those  who  scoff  at  it  —  the  faithless 
join  hands  with  those  who  count  religion  an  im- 
posture. They  will  go  on  for  a  while,  and  then 
their  feet  will  slide  swift  as  the  lightning  —  slide 
down  the  awful  depths. 

God  has  other  disloyal  subjects  than  those  who 
receive  not  His  Scripture.  Of  the  many  who  pro- 
fess to  believe  it,  most  are  indifferent  to  its  teach- 
ings. They  can  read  without  concern  that  they 
are  sinners,  that  God  is  angry,  and  that  He  will  at 
last  rain  on  the  wicked  snares,  fire  and  brimstone, 
and  a  horrible  tempest.  But  the  day  of  doom  has 
set  out  to  reach  these  cold  hearts.     In  time  its 


ITS    TERRIBLE   END.  211 

Strong  wind  will  blow  on  them  till  they  shake  and 
grasp  at  straws  for  stability.  Nothing  shall  save 
them.  As  with  the  bold  opposers  of  religion,  as 
with  all  faithless  ones,  their  feet  will  slide  —  slide 
down  the  awful  depths. 

All  those  who  see  and  feel  the  claims  of  relis:- 
ion,  but  remain  halting  between  two  opinions  — 
who  cannot  quite  resolve  to  do  at  any  present 
moment  what  they  feel  must  be  done  at  some 
time  —  will  at  last  reach  a  point  on  which  foot 
will  not  hold,  let  them  try  to  plant  it  never  so 
firmly.  Over  them  also  the  slipperiness  of  their 
way  will  triumph.  They  may  grasp  on  the  right 
hand  and  on  the  left,  and  strain  every  muscle  to 
fix  into  firmness  their  wavering  step.  In  vain. 
As  with  the  impious  and  profane,  as  with  the 
scoffer  and  the  faithless,  as  with  the  careless  and 
the  insensible,  there  will  be  no  help  for  them. 
Swifter  than  the  arrow  just  launched  from  some 
mighty  bow,  their  feet  will  slid.e  —  slide  down  the 
awful  depths. 

Behold  again  what  sort  of  a  region  this  is  on 
which  sinners  are  traveling  !  So  you  will  under- 
stand better  what  it  is  to  lose  footing  on  it. 
It  is  to  fall,  it  is  to  fall  totally,  it  is  to  fall  down 
infinite  precipices,  it  is  to  fall  so  as  to  be  "  broken 


212  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

without  remedy."  The  way  is  too  steep  and  sb'p- 
pery,  the  awful  chasms  are  too  many  and  near, 
the  sides  of  the  path  are  too  bare  of  what  the 
hand  might  grasp  in  the  instinct  of  self-preser- 
vation, to  allow  him  who  has  once  slidden  to  es- 
cape from  this  whole  series  of  horrors.  Despite 
his  best  efforts,  the  slipping  sinner  cannot  re- 
cover himself.  He  shall  fall  and  glance  along 
steeps  whose  smooth  and  icy  sides  stretch  down 
deep  into  hell.  How  can  he  escape  .''  How  can 
that  abrupt  fall  do  less  than  shoot  him  from 
precipice  to  precipice,  and  from  abyss  to  abyss, 
till  at  last  he  plunges  to  the  rocky  bottom  of  the 
"everlasting  destruction?"  There,  broken  into  a 
shapeless  and  gory  mass,  will  lie  the  man  who 
once  stood  sublimely  erect,  and  with  face  uplift  to 
Heaven  saw  God  and  the  angels  beckoning  him 
thither.  And  the  wreck  of  his  humanity  shall 
never  get  reconstruction.  The  ruin  is  too  awful 
for  that.  To  all  eternity  it  shall  remain  the  un- 
gathered  and  terrifying  example  of  the  wages  of 
sin.  The  man  "  has  perished."  The  soul  is 
"  lost."  The  chaff  is  burnt  with  "  unquenchable 
fire."  O  wandering  star  to  whom  is  "  reserved 
the  blackness  of  darkness  forever !  "  Can  you 
well  think  what  it  is  to  have  your  whole  being  and 


ITS   TERRIBLE  END.  213 

interest  crushed  beyond  the  power  of  any  heahng 
art  which  creature  ever  knew  or  the  Creator  ever 
used  ?  Do  you  find  yourself  able  to  realize  what 
it  is  to  have  character  and  happiness  shattered  be- 
yond redemption  ?  Then  you  can  know  what  it  is 
to  have  your  "  feet  slide  in  due  time." 

But  that  "  due  time  !  "  Perhaps  these  qualify- 
ing words  are  giving  to  some  the  means  of  avoid- 
ing present  alarm  in  view  of  the  sliding.  "Yes, 
it  is  certain  that  wicked  feet  will  slide  —  but  not 
now.  There  is  no  immediate  danger.  The  due 
time  will  come  to  me,  if  ever,  at  some  far  distant 
day  —  at  the  end  of  years  upon  years."  This  is 
your  thought.  The  thought  of  God  is  that  it  will 
come  when  your  destruction  will  be  most  service- 
able to  His  kingdom  ;  the  thought  of  him  who 
will  allow  himself  to  be  taught  by  observation  is 
that  it  is  likely  to  come  soon  and  may  come  to- 
day. If  you  are  treated  like  most  others,  it  will 
come  at  a  time  when  you  look  not  for  it,  at  a  time 
when  you  are  looking  for  peace  instead  of  sudden 
destruction.  Not  when  you  want  to  slide  will  the 
mortal  sliding  come  ;  not  when  you  are  willing  to 
slide ;  but  when  you  wish  above  all  things  to 
stand  as  firmly  as  the  hills,  when  sliding  is  hateful 
and  alarming  to  you  beyond  anything  you  have 


214  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

ever  known,  when  your  wretched  soul  will  quake 
like  the  aspen  as  it  catches  at  the  terrible  slopes 
down  which  it  is  plunging.  For  the  sake  of  cer- 
tain beggarly  elements  of  this  world  it  is  that  you 
are  content,  and  more  than  content,  to  wander 
about  on  these  dark  and  slippery  mountains. 
You  dash  down  unknown  depths  into  perdition  in 
fulfillment  of  a  barter  in  which  you  exchange  your 
soul  for  the  promise  of  a  little  good  in  this  world. 
The  compensation  you  get  is  nothing  but  this 
promise  —  which  will  prove  itself  hollow.  The 
due  time  of  your  sliding  will  come  before  you 
have  received  even  that  miserable  pittance  for  the 
bare  promise  of  which  you  have  bartered  away 
yourselves.  Sin  will  not  even  pay  for  your  ruin 
the  farthing  compensation  it  engaged  to  pay. 
Your  feet  will  slide,  and  your  whole  being  go 
rushing  into  the  abysses  of  the  death  of  deaths,  at 
a  time  when  you  will  feel  that  sin  has  cheated  you 
out  of  two  worlds.  And  as  you  are  projected  by 
that  disastrous  sliding  from  mountain  to  mountain, 
from  gulf  to  gulf,  and  from  blackness  to  blackness, 
the  echoes  of  that  unspeakable  fall  will  shape 
themselves  into  articulate  voices  and  cry  in  your 
appalled  ear,  "  The  wages  of  sin  is  death."  Oh, 
remember  that  the  due  time  of  the  sinner's  sliding 


ITS   TERRIBLE  END.  21 5 

is  such  time  as  pleases  God,  and  not  such  time  as 
pleases  you.  It  may  not  be  a  hand-breadth  away. 
Even  now  it  may  be  smiting  on  your  unwary  feet 
with  the  first  feeble  instalments  of  those  strokes 
which,  ere  another  season  has  come  round,  will 
have  brought  you  down  the  worst  precipices  of 
destruction.  As  a  thief  it  will  come.  You  will 
not  know  at  what  hour.  You  will  be  taken  by 
surprise,  and  hurried  from  your  footing  as  by  a 
whirlwind.  Such  is  the  due  time  in  which  the 
feet  of  all  persevering  sinners  shall  slide. 


XIV. 
VAIN    CITIES    OF   REFUGE. 


XIV. 

VAIN  CITIES  OF  REFUGE. 

T^ROM  the  reproaches  and  forebodings  of  con- 
-*-  science,  from  the  dreadful  threats  of  Holy 
Scripture,  from  the  Wrath  of  God  following  hard 
after  them,  sinners  must  take  refuge. 

Where  shall  they  go  .''  To  what  stronghold,  to 
what  City  of  Refuge  ? 

In  the  open  country,  without  arms  offensive 
and  defensive,  the  tramp  and  glitter  and  rush  of 
advancing  judgments  filling  all  the  air —  it  is  im- 
possible to  stand  still  and  quietly  await  the  prog- 
ress of  events.  The  Wrath  to  Come,  the  falling 
into  the  hands  of  the  Living  God,  the  Everlasting 
Destruction  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord  and 
from  the  glory  of  His  power — such  things  cannot 
be  endured,  cannot  be  calmly  waited  for  with 
open-eyed  expectation.  "  Flee,"  says  the  flutter- 
ing heart.  "  Flee,"  say  the  native  instincts  and 
judgments  !  "  But  whither  ?  Where  shall  I  find 
a  safe  place .''  To  what  point  shall  I  hasten  where 
I  can  throw  off  my  fears  and  bless  myself  with  a 
sense  of  perfect  security  ?  " 


220  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

In  this  state  of  alarm  and  inquiry  some  sinners 
flee  to  the  City  of  Unbehef.  It  is  not  far  from 
them.  Its  population  is  large.  It  numbers  among 
its  citizens  some  men  of  note  and  ability  ;  and 
they  freely  profess  to  feel  in  no  manner  of  danger 
from  the  Destroyer.  So  these  sinners  in  their 
alarm  run  thither.  They  allow  themselves  to  be 
persuaded  that  conscience  and  the  Scriptures, 
with  their  forebodings  and  threats,  are  not  reli- 
able. There  is  no  Wrath  to  Come.  There  is  no 
avenger  of  blood  hastening  upon  them.  Men 
have  misinterpreted  the  Scriptures  ;  or  the  Script- 
ures themselves  are  a  merely  human  invention. 
At  least  there  is  no  sufficient  proof  that  they  are 
Divine.  I  say,  some  sinners  allow  themselves  to 
take  refuge  from  alarm  in  such  notions  as  these. 
They  become  unbelievers,  and  try  to  feel  safe 
from  the  Destroyer. 

What  sort  of  a  city  of  refuge  is  this  Unbelief  .-* 
See  my  account  of  it.  It  is  one  of  the  coldest, 
chilliest,  dreariest,  cities  on  God's  earth.  Its  offi- 
cers, and  leading  citizens  from  the  beginning  — 
and  indeed  the  great  bulk  of  its  people  —  have 
been  the  foes  of  order  and  virtue  among  men, 
both  by  teaching  and  example.  And,  besides,  the 
place  is  falling  into  ruin.     Its  walls  are  crumbling 


VAIN  CITIES   OF  REFUGE.  221 

and  gapped.  Its  towers  ominously  lean  ;  and 
some  of  them  are  mere  piles  of  rubbish  already. 
The  gates  —  so  unhinged  and  broken  are  they  — 
invite  attack  and  promise  to  surrender  at  discre- 
tion. Within,  the  munitions  of  war  are  scanty 
and  rude.  Poorly-provisioned  is  it  —  next  to  noth- 
ing to  eat  and  drink,  next  to  nothing  of  sound  and 
healthy  diet  for  human  nature.  Is  this  a  place  to 
take  refuge  in  ">.  There  is  neither  comfort  nor 
safety  in  it ;  and  when  the  sinner  has  set  himself 
in  the  very  heart  of  its  citadel,  the  avenging  Heav- 
ens will  have  no  difficulty  in  reaching  him.  Will 
Unbelief  keep  off  the  day  of  death,  or  the  day  of 
judgment  .-*  Does  it  nourish  the  better  nature  of 
man,  and  fortify  it  against  sin  .-'  Has  it  not  been 
battered  and  shattered  by  experience  and  learning 
till  it  is  almost  uninhabitable  "i  The  Wrath  to 
Come  will  take  the  city  the  very  day  it  sits  down 
before  it.  It  will  pluck  the  fugitive  out  of  his  ref- 
uge, and  sweep  away  with  him  with  supreme  ease. 
God  will  not  excuse  the  sinner  from  the  penalty 
of  His  law  because  he  has  managed  to  persuade 
himself  that  there  is  no  God,  or  no  Word  of  God, 
or  no  penalty  from  God. 

Hearken  !     The  rush  and  glitter  of  the  Wrath 
to  Come  fill  all  the  air.    What  shall  the  affrighted 


222  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

sinner  do  ?  He  cannot  stand  and  calmly  wait  for 
the  Doom  to  rush  in  upon  and  overwhelm  him. 
Of  course  he  must  flee.  But  whither  ?  There  is 
a  city  close  by  whose  name  is  Forgetfulness  ? 
Thither  he  will  go  and  be  at  ease.  As  he  goes  he 
finds  himself  keeping  company  with  a  large  part 
of  his  friends  and  neighbors.  They  enter  the  gate, 
and  forget  the  Wrath  to  Come.  They  rush  to 
business,  and  forget ;  they  rush  to  pleasure,  and 
forget  ;  they  rush  to  society,  to  reading,  to  almost 
any  means  of  diverting  attention,  and  forget  — 
forget  that  they  are  liable  every  moment  to  be 
overtaken  and  overwhelmed  by  the  judgments  of 
God. 

What  sort  of  a  City  of  Refuge  is  this  .-'  I  must 
admit  that  it  is  populous.  I  must  admit  that  it 
has  a  better  look  than  Unbelief.  I  must  admit 
that  the  people  in  it  seem  to  consider  themselves 
safe.  At  the  same  time  it  is  plain  to  see  that  the 
place  is  always  enveloped  in  a  dense  unhealthful 
smoke  that  totally  shuts  off  Heaven  from  view,  and 
confuses  the  motions  of  its  people  as  they  go 
hither  and  thither.  In  forgetting  the  justice  of 
God,  in  forgetting  such  things  as  death  and 
eternity  and  the  judgment-day  and  everlasting 
destruction,  sinners  have  to  forget  God  Himself 


VAIN  CITIES  OF  REFUGE.  223 

and  the  Bible,  and  the  true  state  of  their  own 
character  ;  have  to  be  without  all  styles  of  religious 
meditation  and  conversation  and  reading,  all  true 
praying  and  hearing  of  the  Gospel  and  hearkening 
to  Providence.  In  short,  they  walk  in  darkness. 
They  grope  for  the  wall  as  the  blind  ;  they  grope 
as  if  they  had  no  eyes.  No  matter,  however,  if 
safety  is  bought  by  the  sacrifice  of  light.  Are 
these  citizens  of  Forgetfulness  safe .''  Have  its 
smoky  gates  and  walls  and  towers  the  ability  to 
screen  its  inmates  from  the  Wrath  to  Come  }  Not 
for  one  moment.  To  forget  danger  is  not  to  re- 
move it.  The  sanctions  of  God's  broken  law  will 
make  their  way  through  the  heaviest  intrench- 
ments  of  Forgetfulness  as  if  they  were  frost-work 
or  dreams,  and  will  smite  the  sinner  in  the  very 
core  of  his  refuge.  It  is  no  refuge  at  all  save 
just  a  little  while  from  fear.  The  tilings  to  be 
feared  march  steadily  on  —  "  They  shall  run  like 
mighty  men,  they  shall  climb  the  wall  like  men  of 
war,  they  shall  run  to  and  fro  in  the  city,  they 
shall  climb  upon  the  houses,  they  shall  enter  into 
the  windows  as  a  thief." 

In  this  open  country,  exposed  on  every  side, 
with  the  tramp  and  rush  of  Eternal  Judgments 
terrifying  all  the  air,  no  sinner  with  eye  and  ear 


224  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

open  can  remain  at  ease,  awaiting  what  will  hap- 
pen. He  must  flee.  But  whither }  Not  far 
away  is  a  city  called  Divine  Decrees.  He  con- 
cludes to  run  thither  ;  and,  on  reaching  it,  he 
finds  that  not  a  few  other  sinners  have  sought 
quiet  in  the  same  place.  And  they  say  to  them- 
selves and  to  one  another :  "  God  has  from  ever- 
lasting decreed  the  fates  of  all  men.  No  efforts 
of  theirs  can  alter  the  character  of  their  eternity 
by  a  single  hair.  If  they  are  to  escape  the  Wrath 
to  Come,  they  will  escape  it,  let  them  do  as  little 
as  they  may.  If  they  are  to  be  overwhelmed  by 
it,  they  will  be  overwhelmed,  let  them  do  as  much 
as  they  can.  What  is  the  use  of  alarm  and  exer- 
tion }  "  So  they  make  the  Decrees  of  God  a  ref- 
uge —  are  glad  to  quietly  settle  down  in  a  city  of 
such  venerable  and  Scriptural  aspect.  They  lease 
houses  in  it  for  an  indefinite  period. 

What  ought  to  be  said  of  this  City  of  Refuge  ? 
Let  us  say  that  it  is  a  real,  a  strong,  an  ancient, 
an  indestructible  city.  No  enemy  can  ever  de- 
stroy or  subjugate  it.  Further,  it  is  a  favorite  city 
with  God  and  good  men  ;  and  the  best  of  men  in 
every  age  have  found  great  satisfaction  in  going 
to  it.  The  impenitent  sinners  who  establish 
themselves  there  do  wear  an  aspect  of  calmness, 


VAfN  CITIES  OF  REFUGE  22$ 

—  often  gloomy  calmness,  it  must  be  confessed  — 
and  sometimes  of  stony,  or  even  smiling,  indiffer- 
ence. They  are  no  longer  palpitating  with  alarm. 
Altogether  it  is  a  famous,  majestic,  and  admirable 
city  ;  and  in  it  one  sees  not  a  few  faces  that  are 
serenely  happy  and  confident  in  their  expression. 
But  it  is  no  place  of  safety  from  Divine  Justice. 
Sinners  may  find  refuge  here  from  disturbance  of 
mind,  but  they  will  find  none  from  the  Law  and  its 
Penalty.  It  is  God's  own  city  ;  and  His  judgments 
enter  its  gates,  and  walk  its  streets,  and  search 
all  its  dwellings,  without  the  slightest  hindrance. 
He  will  not  have  to  batter  it  down  in  order  to  get 
at  His  rebellious  subjects.  That  God  has  foreor- 
dained whatsoever  comes  to  pass  will  never  stand 
in  the  way  of  the  Wrath  to  Come  ;  it  will  rather 
help  its  tremendous  onset. 

"  What  say  you  to  Personal  Merit  as  a  refuge  .'' 
I  must  flee  somewhere  —  these  dreadful  forebod- 
ings of  conscience  and  threats  of  Scripture,  these 
glitters  and  tramps  of  eternal  retributions  that 
increasingly  crowd  upon  me,  cannot  be  endured. 
Yes,  I  must  flee  somewhere  —  why  not  to  this 
near  city  of  Personal  Merit  .'*  "    So  he  runs  thither 

—  and  not  without  company.  Many  take  refuge 
from  their  fears  in  the  thought  that  they  compare 

15 


226  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

favorably  with  many  others.  They  are  not  hke 
yonder  great  criminals,  accused  of  God  and  men  : 
no  gross  vices  and  crimes  can  be  laid  to  their 
charge  ;  they  confessedly  have  many  good  and 
amiable,  not  to  say  shining,  traits.  Correct,  use- 
ful, reputable  —  undeniable  acquisitions  to  any 
community  —  are  all  that  company  now  calmly 
resting  within  the  gates  of  Personal  Merit.  Be- 
hind its  intrenchments  and  under  the  shadow  of 
its  towers,  their  fears  are  gone.  They  hear  but 
faintly,  if  at  all,  the  ominous  tramp  of  the  Wrath 
to  Come.  Surely  God  will  not  allow  tliein  to  be- 
come food  for  destruction ! 

As  to  this  much-resorted-to  Refuge,  I  can 
hardly  give  a  more  pleasing  account  of  it  as  a  city 
to  live  in,  and  to  be  safe  in,  than  I  have  given  of 
others.  Many  of  its  towers  and  fortifications,  as 
seen  by  those  sinners,  are  mere  dream-land :  they 
exist  only  in  the  fancy.  Sinners  are  apt  to  give 
themselves  credit  for  forms  and  degrees  of  excel- 
lence, positive  and  negative,  which  they  do  not 
have.  Really  the  city  is  very  small,  and  poorly 
situated,  and  badly  built ;  and,  especially  in  its 
central  part,  exceedingly  decayed,  crumbling,  and 
unsteady.  It  is  subject  to  sudden  alarms.  Every 
now  and  then  every  building  in  the  city  will  sud- 


VAIIV  CITIES   OF  REFUGE.  22/ 

denly  fall  a  trembling,  and  seem  ready  to  topple 
down  on  the  heads  of  the  people.  At  midnight, 
perhajjs,  they  are  startled  from  their  slumbers  by 
a  mighty  shock  ;  and,  rushing  abroad,  they  find 
the  bells  tolling  by  unseen  hands,  the  ground  toss- 
ing like  the  sea,  and  their  dwellings  nodding  and 
pitching  upon  them  from  every  direction.  And, 
sure  as  destiny,  the  Wrath  to  Come  will  at  last 
arrive  before  the  walls  ;  and,  though  they  were  a 
thousand  times  stronger  than  they  are,  will  breach 
and  carry  them  with  irresistible  momentum.  Not 
a  sinner  will  escape.  Never  will  a  soul  be  found 
with  sufficient  righteousness  of  its  own  to  save  it. 
Whatever  quiet  one  may  get  by  betaking  himself 
to  the  idea  of  Personal  Merit,  he  is  certain  to  get 
no  safety.  Our  righteousnesses  are  but  filthy 
rags  ;  much  less  are  they  adamantine  fortifications, 
stout  and  lofty  enough  to  stop  the  pursuit  of  the 
Avenger. 

All  this  many  sinners  understand.  They  never 
think  of  taking  refuge  in  Personal  Merit.  But 
they  must  have  a  refuge  of  some  kind  —  when 
Sinai  lightens  so  fearfully,  when  an  infinite  pen- 
alty makes  the  ground  quake  under  them  with  its 
thunders,  when  death,  judgment,  and  eternity  are 
heard  whetting  their  ^littering  sword.    The  choice 


228  PARISH  CHRISTIAXITY. 

is  to  flee  to  the  General  Mercifulness  of  God  — 
that  stronghold,  that  great  and  shining  city  set 
on  a  hill,  and  visible  all  over  Christendom.  They 
know  that  God  has  a  strong  disposition  to  help, 
and  save,  even  the  most  guilty.  They  hear  Him 
proclaiming,  "  The  Lord,  the  Lord  God,  merciful 
and  gracious,  long-suffering,  and  abundant  in 
goodness  and  truth."  They  hear  Him  say,  "  God 
is  Love."  And  they  flatter  themselves  that  such 
an  overwhelming  mercifulness  will,  sooner  or  later, 
find  some  way  of  keeping  them  from  the  jaws  of 
destruction.  They  have  nothing  to  say  of  their 
own  goodness  —  only,  God  is  a  miracle  of  mercy. 
They  have  nothing  to  say,  or  feel,  of  sorrow  for 
the  past,  and  of  intending  to  lead  a  new  life  — 
only,  God  is  a  miracle  of  mercy.  So  their  fears 
are  quieted.  Hurrying  within  the  gates,  they  see 
the  goodly  proportions,  and  noble  architectures, 
and  mellow  glories  of  this  Divine  city  rising  and 
shining  all  around  them,  and  they  say,  Lo,we  are 
forever  safe. 

"  What  can  you  say  against  this  City  of 
Refuge  ?  "  Nothing  at  all  against  the  city.  It  is 
not  an  air-castle.  It  is  not  made  up  of  clouds 
marshaled  by  the  winds  and  embellished  by  the 
sunset.     It  is  a  real,  fair,  most  splendid  and  ad- 


VAIN  CITIES  OF  REFUGE.  229 

mirable  metropolis.  It  has  no  superior  anywhere. 
Mere  ghmpses  of  its  winsome  glory  make  the 
faces  of  wise  men  shine.  The  reflection  of  it  from 
other  objects  gives  them  their  chief  beauty  and 
charm.  No,  nothing  but  eulogy  can  we  utter 
when  speaking  of  the  glorious  Mercifulness  of 
God.  Incomparable  city !  Light  and  delight  of 
Heaven  and  earth  !  We  bless  thee.  But  good  as 
it  is  as  a  city,  it  is  poor  as  a  refuge.  It  will  do 
for  a  while  as  a  refuge  from  fear,  but  it  amounts 
to  nothing  as  a  refuge  from  punishment.  The 
mere  Mercifulness  of  God  never  yet  saved  a  sin- 
ner. Divine  Justice  is  accustomed  to  follow  sin- 
ners that  have  fled  into  the  very  heart  and  citadel 
of  this  city,  and  to  consume  them  there.  The 
gates  are  ajar.  Not  a  shadow  of  opposition  is  of- 
fered. The  kind  heart  of  God  is  not  disposed  to 
gratify  itself  at  the  expense  of  His  kingdom.  So 
the  Avenger  sweeps  forward,  without  a  mote 
of  hindrance,  through  gate  and  over  wall,  till  it 
finds  and  slays  its  victim,  hidden  though  he  be  in 
the  very  inmost  pavilion  of  his  chosen  city.  He 
lies  stretched  on  the  golden  pavement.  His  glassy 
eyes  gaze  sightless  into  the  fretted  and  gemmed 
dome  of  his  gorgeous  sanctuary. 

Look  around  !     Here  is  a  city,  fair  and  large 


230  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

and  fortified  —  call  it  Resolutions  of  Future 
Amendment.  Yonder  is  another  of  even  still 
better  and  stronger  appearance  —  call  it  Partial 
Reformation.  You  can  see  at  a  glance  that  both 
these  places  are  favorite  cities  of  refuge  to  men 
chased  by  the  Avenger  of  blood.  These  cities, 
and  the  ways  leading  to  them,  are  populous  with 
refugees.  They  caught  glimpses  of  the  terrible 
Wrath  to  Come  ;  the  fierce  glitter  of  that  armed 
tempest  was  approaching ;  the  sound  of  a  host 
rushing  to  battle  grew  apace  on  their  ears  ;  and 
they  fled,  fled,  saying,  "  I  will  surely  repent  some 
day.  When  this  enterprise  is  finished,  or  that  re- 
vival comes,  or  such  a  period  of  life  is  reached, 
then  I  will  become  a  Christian."  And  others  fled, 
saying,  "  I  renounce  a  part  of  my  sins  ;  from  this 
time  I  am  a  reformed  man  as  to  such  and  such  of 
my  misconduct  "  —  and  straightway  various  im- 
provements are  noted  in  them.  Now  they  are 
quiet.  It  seems  to  them  as  if  they  had  propiti- 
ated the  enemy,  or  for  the  time  had  taken  them- 
selves out  of  its  way.  They  have  taken  refuge  — 
some  in  the  city  of  Good  Resolutions,  and  others 
in  the  city  of  Good  Performances. 

Miserable   Refuges  !      Good    cities   but     poor 
refuges.     In  them  sinners  may  lose  their  fear,  but 


VA/JV  CITTES   OF  REFUGE.  23  I 

they  do  not  lose  their  danger.  The  Wrath  to 
Come  will  not  be  checked  one  minute  before  the 
gates  of  either  of  them.  Ten  thousand  times  has 
it  chased  men,  and  struck  them  down,  along  the 
very  selectest  streets,  and  within  the  inmost 
abodes  and  citadels,  of  these  favorite  and  well- 
appearing  strongholds.  Let  the  truth  be  told  — 
there  is  not  one  particle  of  safety  in  them.  They 
were  never  appointed  to  be  refuges  from  Divine 
Justice,  and  they  have  never  answered  as  such. 
But  they  Jiave  answered  to  delude  men  by  multi- 
tudes into  a  sense  of  safety  that  has  proved  fatal 
to  them.  The  time  they  have  spent  in  hiding 
under  the  lee  of  these  deceitful  walls  might  have 
carried  them  into  the  heart  of  another  City,  roomy 
enough  to  hold  them  all,  near  enough  to  be  reached, 
by  all,  plain  enough  to  be  seen  by  all,  and  strong 
enough  to  defend  all  —  even  against  so  mighty  a 
pursuer  as  the  Wrath  to  Come. 


XV. 
JESUS    THE    SUBSTITUTE. 


XV. 

JESUS  THE  SUBSTITUTE. 

A  MAN  is  to  die.  Only  one  thing  can  save 
■^^-  him.  Some  one  must  consent  to  take  his 
place.  Will  any  do  that  hard  thing  ?  Can  a  per- 
son be  found  to  volunteer  into  the  place  of  the 
sentenced  criminal,  and  be  beheaded  in  his  stead  ? 
Is  there  one  in  the  full  life -boat,  just  pushing  off 
from  the  wreck,  who  will  give  up  his  place  to  the 
poor  man  who  stretches  out  hands  from  the  sink- 
ing ship,  and  will  consent  to  go  down  with  that 
ship  in  his  stead  .'' 

Yes,  very  possibly  there  is  some  one  who  will 
consent  to  undertake  this  tremendous  proxy. 
Such  things  have  actually  happened  many  times. 
The  servant  of  the  Grand  Vizier  of  1769,  seeing  a 
pistol  aimed  at  his  master,  suddenly  threw  himself 
before  him  and  received  the  fatal  charge  in  his 
own  body.  Caius  Gracchus,  hotly  pursued  by  his 
enemies,  crosses  the  Sublician  bridge.  Its  weight 
in  gold  is  offered  for  his  head :  and  he  will  cer- 
tainly lose  it,  unless  his  two  friends  gain  him  five 


236  PARISH  CHRISTIAN.ITY. 

minutes  of  time  by  taking  their  stand  at  the  nar- 
row bridge-entrance,  and  fighting  the  tide  of  pur- 
suit till  they  die.  They  determine  to  do  it. 
In  that  narrow  pass,  they  hold  the  armed  host 
at  bay  ;  and  freely  fling  away  their  lives  as  a 
ransom  for  his.  Leonidas  and  his  three  hundred 
set  themselves  to  keep  the  straits  of  Thermopylae. 
They  expect  to  die,  they  know  they  shall  die, 
they  have  come  for  that  very  purpose  —  for  what 
can  these  few  do  against  the  Persian  million  ! 
They  deliberately  propose  to  lay  down  their  lives 
for  the  lives  of  their  countrymen — to  show  the 
invader  what  sort  of  a  people  he  has  to  deal  with, 
and  to  strike  an  enervating  terror  into  his  heart  for 
all  future  conflicts.  So,  in  that  narrow  pass,  one 
by  one,  to  the  last  man,  they  frankly  and  mightily 
fling  their  lives  in  the  face  of  the  invader,  as 
so  much  ransom  for  the  lives  of  their  country- 
men. 

There  are  so  many  instances  of  this  sort  on  rec- 
ord, that,  when  it  is  asked,  "  Will  any  step  for- 
ward voluntarily  to  take  the  place  of  this  doomed 
man,  and  be  beheaded  or  drowned  in  his  stead," 
we  are  obliged  to  confess  that  the  thing  is  very 
possible.  Do  not  set  it  down  as  incredible  that 
some  one  under  these  trying  circumstances  should 


JESUS   THE  SUBSTITUTE.  237 

present  himself  and  sincerely  say,  "  I  will  die  for 
him  ;  "  and  then  cheerfully  clasp  the  fatal  block, 
or  go  down  with  the  sinking  ship.  Judging  from 
the  past,  the  feat  might  be  done  under  the  power 
of  any  one  of  a  nwnber  of  leading  motives. 

For  example,  it  may  be  done  under  the  influ- 
ence chiefly  of  an  epic  physical  courage.  Some 
persons  have  a  constitutional  hardihood  and  in- 
sensibility to  danger  ;  a  natural  contempt  for  mere 
physical  pain,  and  natural  relish  for  great  feats 
and  astonishing  adventures.  As  the  columns  file 
down  into  battle  notice  the  difference  between 
soldiers.  This  man  —  the  color  has  all  forsaken 
his  cheek,  his  half-closed  eyelids  quiver,  his  step 
is  feeble  and  unsteady,  his  voice,  if  he  has  any 
left,  is  faint  and  broken,  his  mind  is  flurried  and 
confused  so  that  he  hardly  knows  what  is  passing. 
But  yonder  man  —  how  different !  What  perfect 
self-possession  !  How  free  and  firm  his  carriage 
—  never  showed  its  equal  before.  Look  into  his 
eye  —  how  open  and  cool  and  yet  comprehen- 
sively searching  its  glance  !  And  if  he  speaks, 
how  clearly  and  steadily  and  coldly,  and  yet  with 
a  half-concealed  epic  springiness  and  ring,  word 
follows  word  !  What  means  this  striking  differ- 
ence ?     It  means  a  difference  of  natural  constitu- 


238  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

tion.  It  means  that  the  natural  element  of  the 
one  is  a  peaceful  common  way  of  life,  while  the 
natural  element  of  the  other  is  feats,  adventures, 
and  storms.  Now,  this  last  style  of  man,  with 
only  a  very  common  measure  of  generosity  and 
other  principles,  such  as  may  be  supposed  favora- 
ble to  self-sacrifice,  might  rise  to  the  pitch  of  dy- 
ing for  that  doomed  man.  He  has  a  natural  ap- 
petite for  such  feats  ;  just  as  some  men  have  for 
the  strongest  and  spiciest  and  most  concentrated 
kind  of  food.  He  could  die  in  this  great  thunder- 
clap manner  about  as  easily  as  most  persons  live 
in  a  common  quiet  way.  And,  methinks,  I  see 
him  stepping  calmly  forward  in  the  strength 
of  his  iron  and  featy  nature,  saying,  "  I  will 
die  for  him  ; "  and  mounting  the  scaffold  or 
boarding  the  wreck  with  the  same  epic  coolness 
with  which  he  would  have  marched  up  before  an 
exploding  cannon. 

One  person  may  die  for  another  under  the  in- 
fluence chiefly  oi  pidde  —  meaning  by  the  term 
what  is  frequently  meant  by  it,  namely,  a  sensi- 
tiveness as  to  repute.  Why  did  Hamilton  accept 
that  challenge  t  Not  from  mere  appetite  for  fight- 
ing, not  from  deadly  animosity  toward  his  oppo- 
nent, but  from  fear  of  th?  thoughts  and  tongues 


JESUS    THE  SUBSTITUTE.  239 

of  men.  He  thought  that,  if  he  should  decHne  to 
fight,  the  soldiers  and  jooliticians  who  formed  his 
circle  would  think  less  favorably  of  him  as  a  man 
of  spirit,  courage,  and  honor.  He  fought  under 
the  impulse  of  a  false  shame,  in  opposition  to  his 
•principles  and  better  judgment,  and  in  expecta- 
tion of  a  fatal  issue  to  himself.  It  was  a  case 
of  deliberate  sacrifice  of  life  to  pride.  Now  this 
same  Alexander  Hamilton,  who  out  of  sensitive- 
ness to  repute,  flung  away  his  life  for  nothing, 
could,  under  the  influence  of  the  same  principle, 
have  more  easily  flung  away  his  life  for  some- 
thing, say  for  the  life  of  a  friend  or  valuable  cit- 
izen. Suppose  the  case  of  the  life-boat  had 
been  his  ;  and  he  had  been  put  on  his  choice 
whether  himself  or  his  family  should  remain  be- 
hind and  go  down  in  the  sinking  ship.  Is  there 
any  doubt  what  his  choice  would  have  been } 
Had  his  affection  for  his  family  been  of  the  slight- 
est, and  his  personal  courage  in  no  way  remark- 
able, his  very  pride  would  have  led  him  to  sacri- 
fice himself.  What,  he  allow  those  little  ones 
to  stretch  out  imploring  hands,  and  cry  despair- 
ingly to  him  from  off  the  wreck,  and  then  sink 
gurgling  into  their  sea-grave,  while  he  goes  rid- 
ing snugly  into  harbor  !     Unspeakable  shameful- 


240  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

ness !  How  could  he,  after  such  despicableness, 
look  a  fellow-man  in  the  face !  How  could  he 
look  his  own  soul  in  the  face  !  Would  not  the 
sharp  words  and  sharper  thoughts  of  men  follow 
him  as  long  as  he  should  live  !  But  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  should  promptly  choose  to  die  for 
his  family,  and  with  his  own  hand  push  off  the 
loaded  boat  from  him,  what  a  noble  ending  of  his 
honorable  career !  How  men  hearing  the  tale 
would  admire  and  venerate  and  celebrate  him  ! 
It  would  not  take  an  Alexander  Hamilton,  with 
his  great  soul,  to  choose  death  under  the  influence 
of  such  views.  When  the  choice  is  between  liv- 
ing in  shame  and  dying  in  glory,  many  a  com- 
mon man  of  small  principle  and  great  pride  could 
brace  himself  up  to  die  for  his  friends. 

Again,  a  man  might  die  for  another  under  the 
influence  of  simple  disgust  at  life.  Sometimes 
men  get  wearied  at  living.  Their  losses  have  been 
so  severe,  their  disappointments  so  cutting,  per- 
haps their  cmiui  so  complete,  that  they  would  be 
glad  to  get  rid  of  life  on  any  respectable  terms, 
sometimes  on  terms  that  are  not  respectable. 
Deliberate  suicides  happen  in  great  number  every 
year.  Rather  than  not  die  immediately  men  dare 
to  defy  God,  and  become  self-murderers.     "  Can- 


JESUS   THE  SUBSTITUTE.  24 1 

not  you  wait  a  little  ?  You  are  sure  to  die  before 
long  —  why  not  bide  your  time  ? "  "  No,  no  I 
cannot  wait  an  hour  " —  and  so  the  man  is  found 
next  morning  hanging  from  the  bough  of  a  tree. 
To  such  persons  an  opportunity  of  going  out  of 
life  in  a  righteous  and  splendid  sort  of  way  would 
be  a  godsend.  Let  a  just  war  arise,  and  you 
shall  see  them  joyfully  accept  the  forefront  of  the 
battle,  and  volunteer  on  the  forlorn  hope.  Where 
the  shots  fall  most  thickly,  where  battalions  charge 
most  fiercely,  where  the  dying  and  dead  lie  like  the 
stalks  of  a  reaped  grain  field,  there  they  rush,  not 
in  a  spirit  of  martial  and  heroic  enthusiasm,  as 
spectators  may  suppose,  but  in  sheer  weariness  of 
life  to  find  in  an  honorable  way  their  fate.  Or, 
suppose  they  stand  by  a  scaffold  on  which  good 
men  are  about  to  die  unless  some  volunteers  can 
be  found  to  die  for  them,  or,  suppose  they  float  by 
the  side  of  a  wreck  on  which  good  men  are  about 
to  drown  unless  some  volunteers  from  the  full  life- 
boat will  consent  to  drown  for  them.  Is  there  any 
doubt  what  they  will  do  .''  They  will  spring  upon 
that  scaffold,  saying,  "  Behold,  here  are  we,  zue 
will  die  in  the  room  of  these  men  "  —  they  will 
leap  out  of  that  life-boat  upon  the  sinking  deck, 
saying,  "  Haste,  take  our  places,  we  will  go  down 
16 


242  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

with  the  ship  in  your  stead  : "  and  while  behold- 
ers look  on  with  wet  eyes  and  swelling  hearts,  as 
if  gods  had  come  down  on  earth  in  likeness  of  men, 
those  willing  proxies  themselves  are  conscious 
that  they  deserve  no  credit  whatever  ;  since  dis- 
gust at  life  is  felt  to  be  their  motive,  and  they  are 
only  flinging  away  for  something  honorable  what 
they  would  gladly  fling  away  for  nothing  and  less 
than  nothing. 

One  may  die  for  another  out  of  love.  I  well 
remember  the  words  of  my  own  mother,  "  I  wish 
I  could  be  sick  for  you  ;  "  and  had  she  known  it 
to  be  a  sickness  unto  death,  I  am  convinced  it 
would  have  made  no  difference.  She  would  have 
taken  my  place  all  the  same.  Nor  would  it  have 
been  a  very  extraordinary  case.  Many  a  weak, 
timid  mother  would  clamor  at  the  gates  of  death 
for  the  privilege  of  dying  for  her  child,  were  such 
things  permitted.  There  was  many  a  soldier 
lately  in  the  field  whose  mother  would  gladly  have 
covered  his  body  with  her  own.  Many  a  soldier 
now  fills  a  soldier's  grave  whose  mother  when  the 
sad  news  came,  and  long  after,  said  in  her  heart, 
"  O  Absalom,  my  son,  my  son,  would  to  God  I 
had  died  for  thee  ! "  And  not  mothers  only  can 
furnish  examples  of  such  mighty,  death-conquer- 


JESUS   THE  SUBSTITUTE.  243 

ing  affection.  It  glows  in  not  a  few  bosoms 
towards  persons  bound  to  them  by  no  ties  of 
blood  ;  and,  perhaps,  were  the  scaffold  standing 
for  you,  or  the  sinking  ship  were  about  carry- 
ing you  down,  you  know  of  some  one  whose 
heart  is  not  inspired  by  any  instinct  of  blood- 
relationship,  but  who  for  all  that  could  freely  say, 
"  I  will  die  for  him,"  and  would  lay  bare  neck  on 
block  or  leave  the  life-boat  for  your  sake.  That 
volunteer  for  you  may  naturally  be  very  timid,  have 
but  a  very  moderate  share  of  pride  and  ambition, 
be  exceedingly  attached  to  life,  and  yet  for  love  of 
you  it  is  easy  to  die.  Thank  God,  human  nature 
is  capable  of  such  a  feat  as  this  !  It  makes  one's 
bosom  thrill  with  a  strange  pleasure  to  feel  that, 
amid  the  manifold  meannesses  of  human  society, 
a  capacity  for  affection  and  self-sacrifice  so  glo- 
rious and  sublime  may  be  found.  One  may  die 
for  another  out  of  disgust  of  life,  may  die  out  of 
an  abounding  courage,  may  die  out  of  the  still 
higher  principle  of  a  sensitive  regard 'to  charac- 
ter, may  die  out  of  a  principle  vastly  nobler  still, 
namely,  a  love  stronger  than  death  which  many 
waters  cannot  quench  or  floods  drown  ;  and  let 
Heaven  be  praised  that,  on  opportunity,  earth 
would  furnish  more  instances  of  the  last  sort  of 
death  than  of  any  other. 


244  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

I  carry  my  enumeration  but  one  step  further. 
One  may  die  for  another  out  of  love  and  princi- 
ple together.  Your  friend  may  give  up  to  you  his 
place  in  the  life-boat  both  because  he  loves  you 
more  than  tongue  can  tell,  and  because  he  feels  it 
righteous  to  do  so.  He  feels  it  best  for  all  parties 
that  he  should  be  the  one  to  die  ;  his  own  death 
will  involve  fewest  sacrifices  to  God  and  man  ;  he 
can  be  spared  better  by  the  family,  the  community, 
and  the  cause  of  Christ  —  his  sense  of  duty  clearly 
beckons  him  out  of  the  life-boat.  And  so  strong 
is  that  sense,  so  accustomed  is  he  to  obey  it,  that, 
were  you  no  dear  friend  of  his,  he  might  still  pluck 
up  heart  and  bravely  say,  "  God's  will  be  done  ;  I 
will  do  my  duty  at  all  costs  ;  though  I  die  will 
I  not  remove  my  integrity  from  me,"  and  then 
calmly  step  upon  the  sinking  deck  as  you  step 
into  the  life-boat.  But,  in  point  of  fact,  his  affec- 
tions are  as  active  in  that  act  of  self-sacrifice  as 
his  conscience.  At  the  same  moment  that  his 
principle  looks  death  in  the  face  and  says  in  his 
behalf,  "  I  will  die  for  him,"  his  heart  looks 
death  in  the  face  and  says,  "  And  I  will  die  for 
him."  Either  is  strong  enough  to  carry  him  for- 
ward to  the  sacrifice  ;  but,  really,  one  takes  him 
by  one  hand,  and  the  other  by  the  other,  and  so 


yESC^S    THE   SUBSTITUTE.  245 

together  gracefully  lead  him  to  his  fate.  And  this 
is  by  far  the  noblest  and  sublimest  scene  of  all  ;  for 
of  all  natural  qualities  and  motives  there  is  none 
so  glorious  as  a  disinterested  and  mighty  love, 
and  of  all  qualities  whatsoever,  none  has  such 
royal  dignity  as  unswerving,  unconquerable,  moral 
principle.  The  two  together  are  a  double-star, 
burning  and  throbbing  in  the  center  of  a  crystal, 
and  together  make  the  matchless  wedding  of  the 
fairest  thing  on  earth  with  the  best  thing  in 
Heaven.  No  sovereign  contempt  of  life,  no  epic 
courage,  no  delicate  sense  of  honor,  no  profound 
affection  could  die  for  you  in  such  a  blaze  of 
admirable  and  touching  exhibition  as  is  witnessed 
when  mighty  Love  and  mighty  Principle,  each 
stronger  than  death,  the  fairest  angel  below  the 
skies  and  the  fairest  angel  above,  climb  your 
scaffold  and  say  with  one  voice,  "  We  will  be  be- 
headed for  him,"  or  together  spring  upon  your 
sinking  deck  and  say,  "  Away  to  the  life-boat,  we 
will  be  drowned  in  your  stead." 

And  now  I  ask  your  attention  to  this  last  and 
noblest  style  of  dying  for  another  as  being  that 
which  Jesus  has  shown  for  us.  We  were  con- 
demned to  die.  The  scaffold  was  erected,  and 
the  axe,  sharp  and  glittering,  hung  over  our  necks. 


246  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  ship  was  a  wreck,  and  was  about  carrying  us 
down.  Then  Jesus  volunteered  to  die  for  us.  He 
would  take  our  wretched  place  on  the  scaffold,  in 
the  ship.  He  was  not  wearied  of  His  heavenly- 
life.  He  had  no  dishonor  to  fear  should  He  leave 
us  to  do  our  own  dying.  No  spirit  of  reckless 
daring  and  adventure  possessed  Him.  But  He 
did  love  us,  oh,  how  intensely !  No  human  heart 
ever  yearned  and  burned  with  such  passionate 
tenderness  as  He  felt  for  us.  Die  for  us  !  —  He 
could  have  died  millions  of  such  deaths  as  we  see 
about  us.  But  He  had  another  element  within 
Him  equally  magnificent  and  powerful,  namely, 
principle  —  an  immeasurable  taste  and  determina- 
tion for  doing  right.  He  saw  it  right  that  God 
should  be  honored  and  man  saved  by  the  substitu- 
tion of  His  own  death  for  that  of  men.  And  had 
He  not  loved  us  at  all,  He  yet  could  have  died  for 
us  as  a  sacrifice  to  what  was  right  and  best.  But, 
in  point  of  fact,  in  offering  to  die  for  us,  and  in 
actually  dying,  He  was  under  the  influence  of  both 
these  magnificent  motives  —  of  the  magnificent 
love  and  the  magnificent  principle.  Both  led 
Him  to  the  Cross  :  it  was  by  the  elastic  uplift  of 
both  that  He  leaped  on  our  scaffold  of  decapita- 
tion —  on  our  sinking  ship 


JESUS   THE  SUBSTITUTE.  247 

Thus  far,  however,  the  death  of  Christ  for  us 
only  appears  as  one  instance  of  that  best  sort  of 
death  for  others  of  which  the  world  furnishes 
many  examples.  To  be  sure,  there  is  no  compari- 
son between  the  degree  of  that  love  and  principle 
which  led  Jesus  to  die  for  man,  and  the  degree  of 
them  which  sometimes  leads  one  man  to  die  for 
another.  But  there  are  other  features  of  the  case 
that  lift  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  for  us  far  above  all 
such  earthly  fellowship  and  competition.  Man 
has  died  for  man,  has  died  for  him  in  a  spirit  of 
mingled  love  and  principle  ;  but  when  did  man 
ever  die  such  a  death  as  Jesus  undertook  .?  The 
life-boat  He  stept  out  of  was  Heaven — the  niche 
in  the  life-boat  which  He  stept  out  of  was  the 
bosom  of  God.  The  wreck  on  which  He  leaped 
was  the  fortune  of  an  impenitent  sinner  ;  and  the 
abyss  into  which  He  sank  was  the  abyss  of  that 
Divine  wrath  due  to  the  sins  of  mankind.  All 
this  was  borne,  not  for  loving  friends  but  for 
enemies  ;  not  for  the  good  but  for  the  evil  ;  not 
for  the  thankful  but  for  the  unthankful  recipi- 
ents of  innumerable  blessings  ;  not  by  the  uncon- 
scious elements  of  Nature  but  by  the  rejoicing 
hands  of  the  very  persons  for  whom  He  died. 
The  very  persons  for  whom  He  made  place  in  the 


248  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

life-boat  proceeded,  amid  mockeries  and  various 
insults,  to  scuttle  the  ship  with  their  own  hands. 
He  knew  from  the  beginning  that  it  would  be  so. 
He  consented  to  die  in  full  view  of  all  the  circum- 
stances —  to  die  that  leviathan  death  whose  peer 
never  was  seen,  by  whose  side  all  other  sorrows 
and  pains  dwindle  into  nothing,  and  whose  sighs 
are  sharp  with  eternal  sorrow.  What  a  proxyship 
was  that  !  What  mole-hills  are  all  other  substi- 
tuted deaths  compared  with  this  mountain  whose 
base  fills  a  world,  and  whose  summit  touches 
Heaven  !  Do  we  think  it  noble,  magnificent,  de- 
serving of  immortal  renown,  when  a  man  steps 
freely  forth  to  die  our  poor,  common,  dwarfish 
death  for  some  dear  amiable  friend  who  cannot  be 
so  well  spared  as  himself.^  What  should  we  say, 
then,  when  Jesus  steps  freely  forth  to  die  His 
great  death  in  behalf  of  wicked  and  ungrateful 
enemies,  and  by  their  own  hands  !  Was  there 
ever  feat  like  this .''  O  theme  worthiest  of  bard 
and  orator  ;  worthiest  of  amazement  and  imperish- 
able fame  from  man  and  angel ;  worthiest  of  that 
song  that  swells  eternally  like  the  noise  of  many 
waters  and  mighty  thunderings  against  the  sap- 
phire dome  of  Heaven  —  "  Worthy  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain,  to  receive  power  and  riches  and  wisdom 


JESUS   THE  SUBSTITUTE.  249 

and  strength  and  honor  and  glory  and  blessing  ; 
for  thou  wast  slain  and  hast  redeemed  us  to  God 
by  thy  blood  out  of  every  kindred  and  tongue  and 
people  and  nation  !  " 

Shall  we  slight  Him  who  has  so  died  for  us  ? 
Now  that  He  has  passed  through  our  great  agony, 
and  comes  back  with  pleading  eyes  asking  for  our 
love  in  return,  shall  we  withhold  it  ?  He  holds  up 
His  hands.  He  uncovers  His  side.  He  looks 
into  our  eyes  with  unutterable  yearnings  that  say, 
"  Will  you  —  Can  you  .''  "  No,  Lord  Jesus  that 
died  for  us,  we  cannot.  We  cannot  be  so  mon- 
strously hard  of  heart.  Are  we  stone .''  Are  we 
adamant .-'  Have  we  no  heart  at  all,  but  in  its 
place  a  lump  of  ice,  that  after  He  has  laid  His 
neck  beneath  the  axe  of  Divine  Justice  for  us  and 
taken  for  us  its  tremendous  blow,  that  after  He  has 
taken  our  place  in  the  sinking  ship  and  actually 
gone  down  as  our  substitute  to  the  very  bottom  of 
the  tempestuous  and  drowning  abyss  of  heavenly 
wrath  we  can  say  Him  nay,  to  any  request  He 
can  make  !  No,  No — a  thousand  times  No.  He 
shall  have  our  love,  our  eternal  gratitude.  We 
ought  to  be  willing  to  die  for  Him  —  we  will  live 
for  Him.  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  us  to  do  .? 
We  repent,  we  believe  ;  we  dedicate  ourselves  in 


250  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

love  to  Him  who  first  loved  us  and  gave  Himself 
to  die  for  us.  Henceforth  sacrifices  in  His  serv- 
ice and  for  His  honor  shall  be  easy  :  henceforth 
our  lives  shall  be  an  altar  unto  Him  —  perpetually 
smoking  with  the  incense  of  our  affections,  our 
praises,  and  our  obedience. 

Will  yoii  not  do  the  same  ?     Behold  your  true 
City  of  Refuge ! 


XVI, 
THE  MAJESTIES  OF  THE  CROSS. 


XVI. 
THE  MAJESTIES  OF  THE  CROSS. 

A  CROSS  !  Not  a  cross  of  precious  metal, 
■^  ^  studded  with  gems,  and  flashing  in  midday 
sunlight  —  not  even  a  cross  of  iron,  or  of  marble, 
or  of  rare  wood  richly  carved  by  the  hand  of  a 
master  —  but  a  cross  of  common,  rough-hewn, 
uncomely  timber.  It  stands  in  a  rude  hole,  rudely 
wedged  up  with  stones.  It  has  been  pierced  in 
three  places  as  by  spikes,  and  at  each  place  the 
wood  is  deep  red  with  blood.  Also,  the  ground 
beneath  is  soaked  and  gory. 

It  is  not  every  cross  that  seems  to  me  sublime. 
I  do  not  know  of  but  one  that  does  ;  and  that  is 
this  rough,  splintery,  blood-stained  Cross  from 
which  has  just  been  taken  down  the  lifeless  body 
of  Jesus  Christ.  I  know  that  both  Jew  and  Gen- 
tile look  on  it  with  mingled  loathing  and  disdain  ; 
and  see  in  it  nothing  more  than  a  bloody  badge  of 
crime,  slavery,  and  dishonor.  I  know  that  crim- 
inals the  worst  in  character  and  meanest  in  con- 
dition have  been  wont  to  meet  their  fate  on  just 


254  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

such  a  thing  as  this  ;  and  that  Pilate  the  Roman, 
and  Caiaphas  the  Jew,  would  say  that  in  every 
point  of  view  this  rough,  ragged,  wooden  Cross  is 
meanness  itself.  Still,  to  me  it  is  the  sublimest  of 
visions.  And  it  ought  to  be  to  every  beholder. 
All  hail,  glorious  Cross  of  the  Lord  Jesus  !  — 
the  more  glorious  the  longer  seen.  There  is  maj- 
esty in  thy  white  and  sky-piercing  peaks  and 
ranges,  O  Alps  —  majesty  in  thy  great  swing  and 
stormy  anthem,  O  Ocean — majesty  in  thy  broad 
arch  and  hosty  eternal  stars,  O  Heaven  —  but 
there  is  no  majesty  like  thine,  O  simple  wooden, 
rough-scored,  splintery,  gory  Cross,  from  which 
dead  Jesus  of  Nazareth  has  just  been  taken  down. 
And  David  said,  "  Oh  that  one  would  give  me 
drink  of  the  water  of  the  well  of  Bethlehem,  which 
is  by  the  gate."  Then  three  warriors  buckled  on 
their  harness,  broke  through  the  host  of  Philis- 
tines, and  brought  him  the  water.  But  David 
would  not  drink  it  —  it  seemed  too  sacred  a  thing 
for  the  use  of  even  an  anointed  monarch.  He  saw 
the  precious  lives  of  those  champions  in  the  cup. 
The  blows  they  had  stricken  ;  the  risks  they  had 
taken  ;  the  long,  laborious,  battling  way  by  which 
they  had  gained  for  him  that  cool  delicious  draught 
—  all  rose  up  before  him  ;  and  he  felt  that  such 


THE  MAJESTIES  OF   THE   CROSS.  255 

water  was  a  sacred  and  sublime  thing  which  no 
human  lips  should  touch,  but  which  should  be 
poured  out  in  solemn  libation  before  God.  Had 
that  water  reached  him  through  a  still  longer  and 
mightier  course  of  labors  and  sacrifices  ;  had  an 
army  of  champions,  instead  of  three,  gone  forth 
on  the  adventure  ;  had  they  been  forced  to  battle 
their  way  for  days  instead  of  hours,  and  for  leagues 
instead  of  rods  ;  had  they  been  made  to  struggle 
to  and  from  that  well  through  such  legions  as  fol- 
lowed Charlemagne  and  his  Paladins  instead  of 
through  the  banded  war  powers  of  little  Philistia 
—  then  David  would  have  looked  on  the  cup  of 
water  held  out  to  him  by  his  worn  and  battered 
and  blood-stained  heroes  as  a  still  more  touching 
and  sublime  thing.  The  mightier  preparation  of 
that  cup  would  have  put  a  still  more  thrilling 
sacredness  into  it. 

Now  look  at  the  cup  of  salvation  offered  us  — 
in  whose  depths  lies  pictured  the  Cross  of  Jesus 
Christ !  Think  what  a  long  course  of  great  move- 
ments prepared  the  way  for  it,  and  actually 
brought  it  to  us.  Far  back  of  the  world's  birth- 
day, and  indeed  of  the  birthdays  of  all  worlds, 
behold  blazing  the  fixed  star  of  God's  eternal 
purpose !     With  man  and   his  sin  came    the   in- 


256  PARISFT  CHRTSTIANITY. 

stitution  of  sacrifices  ;  the  first  instalments  of 
revelation  ;  the  separation  of  the  Jews  ;  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  Mosaic  Economy  of ,  types  and 
shadows  ;  all  along  at  least  four  thousand  years 
an  ever  increasing  beam  of  religious  knowledge 
by  angels  and  inspired  teachers  ;  at  last  the  birth 
of  Jesus  and  His  wonderful  life,  introduced  and 
flanked  by  astonishing  miracles.  All  these  were 
so  much  preparation  for  the  Cross.  They  all  went 
to  make  it  what  it  was  and  what  it  is  :  and  with- 
out the  leading  things  among  them  there  could 
have  been  no  Cross  of  Jesus  Christ  at  all. 
That  long  drawn  course  of  mighty  preliminaries 
was  to  it  what  the  stringing  of  a  bow,  the  fit- 
ting of  the  arrow  to  the  string,  the  bending  of 
the  tough  yew,  the  bringing  it  to  the  ear,  the  aim- 
ing, the  sudden  quitting  hold  of  the  feathered 
shaft,  is  to  the  mark  in  the  very  center  of  which 
the  arrow  at  last  stands  quivering.  See  the  years 
and  events  in  mighty  procession  sweeping  on  to- 
ward Calvary  !  See  revelations  and  miracles  and 
institutions,  see  prophets  and  monarchs  and  law- 
givers and  angels,  slowly  hewing  out  and  putting 
together  that  wooden  Cross  of  Jesus  !  See  the 
work  laboriously  going  on  under  such  hands  for 
more  than  forty  centuries  until  at  last  it  sinks  into 


THE  MAJESTIES  OE  THE   CROSS.  257 

its  socket  and  holds  up  in  mid-air  the  body  of 
Christ  our  Atonement !  In  the  light  of  such  a 
preparation  as  this  the  Cross  takes  on  a  sacred 
majesty.  The  augustness  of  the  preparation  passes 
over  to  the  thing  prepared.  As  I  see  the  great 
Forerunner  looking  forth  with  shaded  eyes  into 
the  near  future ;  and  then  baring  his  princely 
brow,  and  bowing  low  his  stately  form,  and 
uttering  halleluias  of  salutation  and  welcome  in 
voice  as  ocean  grand  —  /  say,  O  great  Cross  ! 

Coming  to  the  Cross  itself  —  the  idea  which  it 
naturally  first  suggests  is  that  of  suffering.  Here 
have  been  spikes,  driven  through  hands  and  feet. 
Here  the  body  has  hung  and  writhed  and  died, 
hour  after  hour.  And  here  too  —  more  than  all 
—  Thou,  O  God,  hast  forsaken  the  victim,  and 
saying,  Awake  O  sword  against  the  man  that  is 
my  fellow,  hast  keenly  cut  with  it  through  all  the 
sensibilities  of  the  soul.  What  know  we  of  sufifer- 
ing !  Let  not  the  most  sorely  tried  man  that 
ever  groaned  and  wept  among  us  dare  speak  of 
his  trials  in  the  presence  of  the  Cross.  Here 
is  suffering  whose  figures  go  out  right  and  left 
infinitely.  High  heaven  !  —  thou  art  not  higher. 
Deep  hell !  —  thou  art  not  deeper.  Neither  feet 
nor  wings  nor  mortal  thought  can  compass  the 
17 


258  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

great  mountain  pain  that  yet  hung  firmly  on  the 
poor  wooden  Cross.  Any  pain  is  touching — pain, 
standing  Hke  Vesuvius,  rifted  and  blasted  with  its 
own  agony,  base  on  earth  and  head  in  heaven, 
is  dreadfully  sublime.  Especially  if  we  view  it  as 
the  sinless  suffering  of  incarnate  Deity.  All  our 
suffering  is  mixed  up  with  guilt  :  but  that  which 
wrung  on  the  iron  pivots  of  Jesus'  Cross  was  not 
humbled  by  such  an  element.  All  our  suffering  is 
that  of  worms  :  but  that  which  hung  by  martyred 
hands  and  feet  from  the  Cross  of  Jesus,  in  its  su- 
preme throes  and  clutches,  took  fast  hold  under 
the  royal  mantle  of  eternal  Godhead.  Say,  was 
it  not  fearfully  majestic  and  sublime — that  aton- 
ing torture  that  ached  and  quivered  and  almost 
leaped  on  the  red  dripping  spikes  of  Calvary 
—  that  mortal  expiating  agony  into  the  abysmal 
Profound  of  whose  eye  all  other  agonies  looked 
and  shrank  affrighted  and  called  themselves  joys, 
and  which  saved  the  creature  only  by  leaving  the 
print  of  its  torn  hand  on  the  starry  robe  of  the 
Supreme  Creator  ! 

One  looks  at  the  suffering  of  Jesus'  Cross  and 
is  astonished  at  its  giant  magnitudes  and  alli- 
ances. Let  him  be  equally  astonished  at  the  way 
that  giant  suffering  was  taken,   Jesus  took  it  upon 


THE  MAJESTIES  OF  THE   CROSS.  2$g 

Him  of  freest  choice.  No  compulsion  shouted 
sternly  to  Him  from  above  or  from  beneath.  He 
did  not  fall  the  struggling  victim  of  a  tremendous 
conspiracy  between  hell  and  earth  and  Heaven  ; 
but  He  came  to  that  great  suffering  self-moved  ; 
came  to  it  on  wings  ;  came  to  it  and  laid  its 
thorny  bosom  against  His,  and  pressed  it  to  His 
heart —  not  without  a  certain  quivering  and  shrink- 
ing of  the  human  in  Him  as  the  sharp  points  en- 
tered His  flesh,  but  still  with  all  the  free  soul 
within  Him  lovingly  choosing  the  mighty  self-sac- 
rifice. And  now  that  the  great  sorrow  has  Him 
fast  locked  in  its  embrace  and  writhing  on  its 
sharp  points  —  now  that  He  hangs  on  His  volun- 
teer cross  on  the  hill-top  with  death  in  His  eye, 
and  death  in  His  heart,  and  mocking  human  fiends 
around  Him  (drawing  off  and  emptying  on  Him- 
self, like  some  safety  rod,  all  the  tremendous  ar- 
tillery of  the  skies)  —  oh,  mark  His  Divine  silence  ; 
His  Diviner  word  to  the  poor  wretch  at  his  side  ; 
His,  if  possible,  still  Diviner  prayer  for  His  mur- 
derers, Father,  forgive  them  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do  !  Here  is  another  sublimity  for  you 
—  a  sublime  manner  of  suffering  added  to  a  sub- 
lime quantity  and  quality  of  it.  The  suffering  was 
king,  no  doubt :  now  mark  ye  how  it  has  also  the 


26o  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

mien  and  carriage  and  robes  of  a  king.  The  suf- 
fering was  oceanic,  no  doubt :  now  mark  ye  when 
the  storm  is  on  that  ocean  how  majestically  march 
its  billows,  and  sound  its  trumpets,  and  wave  its 
banners  of  cloud  and  sheeted  foam  ! 

What  was  the  object  of  Jesus'  Cross  ?  Why 
stands  that  rude  upright,  with  its  two  rude  hori- 
zontal arms,  on  the  summit  of  the  little  Calvary  — 
dripping,  dripping,  with  the  noblest  blood  that  ever 
agonized  its  way  out  of  any  heart  ?  There  is  at 
least  one  word  whose  measure  is  longer  than  the 
earth  and  broader  than  the  sea.  That  word  is 
Salvation.  Lo,  the  mighty  object  for  which  the 
Cross  of  Jesus  stands  wet  with  a  bloody  rain  !  To 
save  men  from  immortal  sin  and  sorrow ;  to  lift 
them,  soul  and  body,  to  everlasting  thrones  of 
goodness,  felicity,  and  glory  —  it  was  for  this  that 
the  executioner  Cross  was  planned,  and  hewed, 
and  loaded  with  its  Divine  Martyr.  Think  of  it, 
all  ye  ransomed  past  and  present !  Think  of  it, 
all  ye  futures,  stretching  never  so  far  !  Think  of 
it  —  all  sins  and  sorrows  in  ofter  and  possibility 
rooted  out,  and  all  virtues  and  joys  in  offer  and 
possibility  planted  for  all  and  forever  —  is  not 
such  an  end  as  this  sublime .''  This  is  what  the 
Cross  of  Jesus  meant  to  accomplish.     It  aimed  at 


THE  MAJESTIES  OF  THE  CROSS.  26 1 

this  mark  with  more  careful  and  magnificent  pre- 
cision than  ever  sat  on  the  arrow  of  most  famous 
archer  shooting  for  his  life.  Let  the  angel  who 
with  his  golden  reed  measured  the  New  Jerusa- 
lem above —  the  city,  the  gates,  and  the  wall 
thereof — let  that  celestial  computer,  with  his 
winged  feet  and  golden  furlong-wand,  alone  at- 
tempt to  give  us  the  dimensions  of  that  great 
object  for  which  Christ  died.  Like  the  City  of 
God,  its  length  and  breadth  and  hight,  are  equal  ; 
and  the  figures  for  each  are  —  unspeakable. 

While  the  Cross  was  preparing,  while  it  yet 
stood  dripping  with  its  tremendous  atonement,  it 
was  noticed  by  only  a  small  part  of  mankind,  be- 
lieved in  and  loved  by  still  fewer.  But  even  then, 
outside  of  men,  that  poor  wooden  Cross,  from 
which  flashed  not  a  single  jewel  of  worldly  pag- 
eantry, was  drawing  upon  itself  the  admiring, 
revering,  loving  glances  of  innumerable  beings  — 
glances  which  like  the  painted  rays  of  sunset  were 
a  glory  themselves  and  glorified  the  object  on 
which  they  fell.  The  Supreme  Father  looked 
forth  with  all  His  infinite  heart.  After  Him, 
straining  over  all  Heaven's  battlements,  looked 
Heaven's  myriad  glittering  children,  native  and 
adopted  ;  and  never  had  those  bright-eyed  specta- 


262  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

tors,  through  all  the  starry  procession  of  their 
years,  seen  anything  to  their  thought  half  so 
wonderful,  so  beautiful,  so  majestic,  so  touching, 
as  the  atoning  Cross  of  Jesus.  And  since  then 
great  numbers  of  men  have  learned  to  take  the 
same  view  of  it.  From  the  apostles  and  early 
martyrs  down  to  ourselves,  the  gory  Cross  of 
Jesus  has  been  the  center  to  which  have  gravi- 
tated all  devout  Christian  eyes  and  hearts.  How 
saints  have  wondered  at  it,  trusted  it,  revered  it, 
loved  it !  What  sore  sacrifices  have  they  made 
for  it  !  They  have  lived  for  it,  and  died  for  it. 
They  have  made  for  it  in  their  inmost  heart  a 
shrine :  out  of  all  things  most  precious  and  beauti- 
ful have  they  made  it  ;  and  there,  in  socket  of 
gold  and  diamond,  they  have  set  up  that  poor, 
wooden,  homely,  dripping  Cross  and  stood  uncov- 
ered before  it,  as  if  in  presence  of  Heaven  itself. 
Yes,  multitudes  of  hearts,  living  and  dying,  on 
earth  or  in  Heaven,  have  emptied  themselves  on 
that  wonderful  Cross  of  Jesus  :  and  let  me  say  to 
you,  m}'  friend,  that  the  outpour  of  such  a  wealth 
of  heart  from  God,  angels,  and  saintly  men  on 
any  object  is  enough  to  make  it  sublime. 

On   the   one   hand   all   beautiful   and   glorious 
emotions  have  from  the  beginning  been  pouring 


THE  MAJESTIES  OF  THE   CROSS.  263 

in  deep  broad  streams  on  the  Cross :  and  on  the 
other  hand  all  dark  and  dreadful  emotions  and 
actions  have  been  doing  the  same.  Satan  and 
his  have  always  gazed  at  it  about  as  fiercely  as 
fiends  can.  The  Jews  as  a  people  hated  it  bit- 
terly and  always.  The  Romans  hated  it,  and  in 
ten  general  persecutions  followed  it  with  fire  and 
sword.  The  pens  and  mouths  of  modern  opposers 
have  been,  and  still  are,  so  many  craters  belching 
out  on  it  the  lava  of  their  hatred  and  abuse.  It 
is  really  fearful  to  see  the  intense  bitterness  that 
blazed  away  at  white  heat  in  the  writings  and 
speech  of  such  men  as  Paine  and  Voltaire  against 
the  great  symbol  of  the  Christian  faith.  Enmity 
so  deep,  violent,  and  implacable  has  a  frightful 
sublimity  about  it,  and  reflects  a  lurid  and  painful 
majesty  on  its  object.  And  not  altogether  a  pain- 
ful majesty.  One  thinks  how  inconsumable  the 
Cross  has  proved  in  the  hot  focus  of  these  hates. 
One  thinks  what  a  Cross  it  is  that  not  only  re- 
mains unhurt  by  such  Greek  fires,  but  grows  in 
weight  and  splendor  fi-om  age  to  age.  And  one 
thinks,  too,  that  for  even  its  deadliest  human  foes 
this  Cross  is  doing  its  best.  O  amazing  love  of 
God  !  O  sublime  Cross  which  no  persecution  can 
destroy,  and  whose  sweetness  no  sourness  can 
embitter  ! 


264  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Such  is  the  Cross  which  makes  it  possible  for 
God  to  offer  sinners  conditions  of  salvation.  It  is 
atonement  for  sin.  It  is  availing  sacrifice  for 
guilty  souls.  If  received  in  a  certain  way  it  satis- 
fies Divine  justice  just  as  well  as  would  the  ruin 
of  the  sinner.  Now  he  can  enter  Heaven  as  freely 
as  if  he  had  never  done  a  wrong  thing.  God's 
feeling  against  sin  has  been  worthily  expressed, 
the  dignity  of  the  law  upheld,  and  now  Divine 
mercy  can  flow  out  to  guilty  men  in  unhindered 
stream.  A  substitute  has  been  found.  Glorious 
substitution !  Behold  the  Lamb  of  God  that 
taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world  ! 


XVII. 

RECONCILIATION    THE    FIRST 
THING. 


XVII. 

RECONCILIATION    THE    FIRST   THING. 

''  I  ^HE  Gospel  plan  in  regard  to  men  proposes 
-^  three  things  :  first,  their  reconciliation  with 
God  ;  second,  their  holy  life  ;  third,  their  salvation. 
These  are  the  things,  and  this  is  the  order  of  them. 
In  no  case  is  a  single  one  of  these  elements  left 
out,  in  no  case  is  any  addition  made  to  them,  in 
no  case  are  they  allowed  to  change  places  among 
themselves. 

This  Scriptural  scheme  of  progress,  with  its 
great  trinity  of  particulars  and  inexorable  order 
of  them  —  engrossed  in  blazon  and  capitals 
though  it  be  —  gets  strangely  misunderstood  and 
tampered  with  by  many  persons.  Some  insist  on 
seeing  only  the  last  of  the  three  particulars.  They 
declare  that,  put  the  Scripture  in  whatever  light 
they  may,  and  strain  their  eyes  upon  it  as  carefully 
as  they  may,  they  can  detect  nothing  but  the  one 
word.  Salvation.  "  All  will  be  saved.  No  fore- 
going process  is  essential  ;  but  all  may  leap  out  of 
death,  in  the  very  act  of  sin,  into  Heaven."    Others 


268  PARIS//  C/IRIST/ANITY. 

insist  that  the  great  lettered  schedule  has  two 
things  on  it,  and  only  two.  Here  is  Salvation  ; 
and  here,  just  before  it,  is  a  good  life  —  nothing 
further.  "  What,  do  you  not  see  one  word  more 
still  —  look  again,  surely  you  can  spell  out  that 
Reconciliation  that  goes  before  both  the  other 
things  in  a  hand  quite  as  bold  and  heavy  as 
they!"  "No,  we  see  no  such  word.  Our  doc- 
trine is  that  a  man  is  to  have  a  good  character 
and  life,  and  that  then  he  is  to  be  saved.  No  rec- 
onciliation is  necessary.  The  relation  between 
God  and  natural  men  is  not  that  of  enemies.  The 
one  is  simply  an  indulgent  father  —  not  a  pro- 
voked king  with  uplifted  sword.  The  others  are 
thoughtless  and  weak  children,  erring  more  or 
less  from  their  Father's  will,  but  still  with  no  cam- 
paigning bitterness  and  battle  against  Him  in 
their  hearts.  Let  them  do  better  and  lead  a  good 
life,  and  all  will  be  well."  Still  others  insist  that 
though  the  Gospel  plan  includes  all  the  three  par- 
ticulars of  Reconciliation,  Holy  Life,  and  Salva- 
tion,yQt  this  is  not  the  order  in  which  they  should 
stand.  "  Read  good  life  first ;  then  reconcilia- 
tion," say  they.  "  Your  eye  is  like  the  lens  of  the 
optician  which  reverses  the  true  order  of  objects. 
Man  must  improve  his  character  and  ways,  and  so 


RECONCILIATION   THE  FIRST  THING.       269 

at  last  win  his  way  to  Divine  acceptance,  and  last 
of  all  to  salvation.  Let  him  make  himself  fit  to 
come  to  Christ,  let  him  dress  himself  up  in 
propitiating  virtues  till  he  is  fairly  clad  in  court 
costume,  and  then  he  can  present  himself  accept- 
ably." 

In  opposition  to  these  human  methods  of  salva- 
tion, I  wish  now  to  place  distinctly  before  you  the 
Divine  —  first,  reconciliation  with  incensed  and 
contending  Deity ;  second,  a  good  life  ;  third, 
Heaven,  According  to  the  Scriptures,  the  natu- 
ral condition  of  every  man  is  one  in  which  he  is 
at  war  with  God.  The  two  stand  related  to  each 
other  as  enemies.  We  begin  life  with  a  personal 
dislike  of  our  Maker  and  His  Government,  as 
rightly  conceived  ;  we  oppose  His  plans,  neglect 
His  messages,  and  break  His  laws  —  do  it  intel- 
ligently, resolutely,  and  perseveringly.  We  are 
against  Him  in  feeling,  in  intention,  and  in  act. 
What  more  is  needed  to  make  us  deserving  of  be- 
ing called  enemies  .''  And  the  hostility  is  not  all 
on  our  side.  God  reciprocates  the  belhgerent  atti- 
tude we  take.  He  dislikes  sinners  quite  as  much 
as  sinners  dislike  Him.  He  hates  all  the  workers 
of  iniquity.  He  abhors  them.  They  are  an  abom- 
ination to   Him.      They   are   children    of   wrath. 


2/0  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  face  of  the  Lord  is  against  them  that  do  evil, 
to  cut  off  the  remembrance  of  them  from  the 
earth.  He  threatens  more  awfully  than  did  ever 
embattled  army ;  He  whets  the  glittering  sword 
of  everlasting  punishment,  and  makes  it  ready ; 
indignation  and  wrath,  tribulation  and  anguish, 
upon  every  soul  of  man  that  doeth  evil,  is  His 
eternal  decree  and  present  intent.  The  idea 
very  apt  to  be  held  by  sinners,  that  their  own 
feelings  and  attitude  toward  God  are  of  a  very 
friendly  sort,  and  that  His  bearing  toward  them  is 
merely  one  of  paternal  and  pitying,  though  often 
grieved,  softness,  is  unscriptural  and  a  delusion  of 
Satan. 

Now  it  is  just  at  this  point  that  the  Gospel 
makes  its  first  effort  for  the  restoration  and  salva- 
tion of  fallen  man.  It  begins  with  trying  to  shut 
the  temple  of  Janus  —  to  put  an  end  to  the  war. 
Till  this  is  done  it  will  undertake  nothing  else. 
Hence  it  is  that  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel  is 
called  the  ministry  of  reconciliation :  it  being  the 
great  foundation-work  of  the  Gospel,  on  which  it 
builds  up  all  other  help  for  man,  to  bring  God  and 
the  sinner  together  in  a  state  of  peace.  It  is  a 
very  desirable  thing  to  have  a  holy  life ;  and,  as 
we  have  seen,  some  persons  take  the  ground  that 


RECONCILIATION  THE  FIRST  THING.       2/1 

it  is  here  the  sinner  is  to  begin  his  religious 
efforts  —  gradually  improving  his  courses,  until  at 
last  he  reaches  reconciliation  as  the  result  of  such 
improvement.  The  Gospel  reverses  this  order. 
It  is  bent  on  a  holy  life  in  men  as  strongly  as  can 
be ;  only  its  theory  and  plan  are  to  reach  it  after 
reconciliation.  This  is  the  true  order.  A  holy 
life  has  never  been  reached  in  any  other,  and 
never  will  be.  A  man  proposing  to  live  well, 
must,  if  he  would  succeed,  first  come  into  friendly 
relations  with  God.  He  cannot  improve  the  fu- 
ture till  he  has  cleared  off  the  past.  He  cannot 
conquer  the  country  before  him  until  he  has  qui- 
eted and  reconciled  the  country  behind. 

It  is  plain  from  the  whole  drift  of  the  Gospel, 
that,  in  order  to  the  salvation  of  the  sinner,  the 
controversy  between  him  and  God  must  at  some 
time  be  put  to  rest.  The  man  must  cease  to  be 
averse  to  God  and  cease  to  oppose  His  will :  and 
God  on  His  part  must  withdraw  His  wrath  and 
uplifted  sword.  The  only  question  is,  At  what 
point  in  the  sinner's  experience  does  the  necessary 
reconciliation  Scripturally  come  in  t  Let  us  sum- 
mon witnesses.  Zaccheus  !  —  once  chief  among 
the  publicans,  and  now  leaning  over  the  battle- 
ments of  Heaven  —  what  hast  thou  to  say  touch 


2/2  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

ing  this  question  ?  When  wast  thou  reconciled  ? 
After  thou  hadst  followed  for  some  time  a  good 
Christian  life,  or  at  the  very  outset  of  such  a  life  ? 
And  Zaccheus  makes  answer,  "  The  very  day  I 
first  heard  the  Gospel,  that  day  salvation  came 
to  my  house,  and  Christ  accepted  me  as  a  true 
child  of  Abraham."  Crucified  thief! — once  hung 
at  Jesus'  side,  but  now  walking  with  Him  in 
the  green  pastures  above  the  stars  !  —  when  wast 
thou  reconciled  ?  After  some  more  or  less  length 
of  good  life,  or  before  it  ?  And  he  answers,  "  The 
very  day  that  saw  me  railing  on  the  Lamb  of  God 
saw  me  with  Him  in  Paradise."  Saul  of  Tarsus, 
apostle  and  saint !  —  now  ruler  over  ten  cities  in 
glory  —  was  it  after  some  years  of  a  well-ordered 
life  that  Ananias  came  and  said  to  thee.  Brother  ; 
or  was  it  only  three  days  from  the  time  when  thou 
wast  a  mad  persecutor  of  Christ  and  His  Church  ? 
And  Saul,  from  his  throne,  makes  answer,  "  Only 
three  days."  Jailer  of  Philippi !  —  now  prince  on 
yonder  high  places  —  how  was  it  with  thee .'' 
How  long  after  thy  gratuitous  cruelty  in  thrust- 
ing Paul  and  Silas  into  the  inner  prison,  and 
making  their  feet  fast  in  the  stocks,  did  they  see 
fit  to  baptize  thee  as  a  disciple  .-•  Was  it  after 
some  process  of  Christian  life,  running  over  weeks 


RECONCTLTATION   THE   F/A'ST  THING.       2/3 

or  months,  or  was  it  in  the  same  hour  that 
saw  thee  an  idolater  and  persecutor  ?  And  the 
jailer,  turned  prince,  testifies,  "The  symbol  of 
reconcihation  was  applied  to  me  the  same  hour 
of  the  night  that  saw  me  asking  in  terror  what  I 
should  do  to  be  saved,"  Famous  three  thousand 
of  the  Pentecost !  —  now  celestial  hierarchies,  all 
of  you  —  was  it  good  life  first  with  you,  or  was  it 
reconciliation  ?  And  that  white-robed  and  yellow- 
sceptered  multitude  make  haste  to  say,  "  Why, 
we  were  accepted  disciples  the  same  day  that  we 
asked,  Men  and  Brethren,  what  shall  we  do  ?  It 
was  not  a  holy  life  first  and  then  reconciliation. 
We  were  at  peace  with  God  before  there  was  op- 
portimity  for  holy  living."  And  so  testify  all 
Scripture  witnesses.  You  cannot  find  an  example 
of  a  good  life  first  and  reconciliation  afterward. 
The  process  of  religious  restoration  always  begins 
at  the  other  end. 

By  this  order  of  religious  events  in  the  history 
of  the  sinner  some  important  advantages  are  se- 
cured. If  it  were  possible  to  have  a  holy  life  first, 
and  then  reconciliation,  the  other  order  would  be 
the  easiest  to  us.  Being  reconciled,  we  have 
God's  friendly  aid  in  leading  a  good  life  to  an  ex- 
tent not  to  be  expected  while  we  are  enemies. 
i8 


274  PARISH  CHRrSTIANITY. 

Being  reconciled,  we  have  a  greater  spring  and 
endurance  in  the  efifort  to  follow  out  a  right  course 
than  we  should  otherwise  have  :  a  sense  of  being 
already  at  peace  with  God,  and  so  safe,  gives  the 
impulse  of  cheerfulness,  gratitude,  and  assured  suc- 
cess to  our  efforts.  According  to  this  order,  recon- 
ciliation first  and  a  good  life  afterward,  we  do  not 
have  to  wait  for  comfort  and  safety  for  a  period  of 
some  length,  as  we  should  have  to  do  were  the 
order  reversed  :  but  we  can  have  them  in  a  mo- 
ment, and  carry  them  with  us  as  so  much  light 
and  strength  in  all  our  religious  struggles  and 
trials.  We  are  also  in  less  danger  of  viewing  rec- 
onciliation as  a  matter  of  self-purchase  than  we 
should  be  if  obliged  to  follow  a  good  course  of 
greater  or  less  length  in  order  to  gain  the  prize. 

We  see  one  reason  why  so  many  reformations 
are  only  partial  and  temporary.  They  are  not 
founded  on  reconciliation.  Men  set  out  to  make 
improvements  in  their  courses  of  life  and  charac- 
ter, as  if  this  were  the  first,  instead  of  the  second, 
thing  to  be  done.  Instead  of  making  a  distinct 
and  unreserved  submission  to  God,  getting  His 
pardon  for  the  past,  enlisting  His  positive  friend- 
ship in  their  favor,  and  then  from  this  point 
going  on  to  the  effort  to  build  up  a  good  life,  they 


RECONCILIATION   THE   FIRST  THING.       2/5 

just  rever&e  this  Gospel  order,  and  before  long 
there  is  a  breaking  down  of  the  whole  enterprise. 
They  run  well,  so  far  as  outward  observances  go, 
for  a  while  ;  but  alas,  it  soon  appears  that  there 
is  a  want  of  something.  Their  duties  are  mere 
shells  which  a  pufF  of  temptation  blows  away. 
They  are  found  to  have  no  sound,  comprehensive 
conscientiousness  about  them — yoking  them  to 
hard  and  unpleasant  duties  as  well  as  to  the  easy 
and  agreeable.  The  fact  is,  they  began  to  build 
at  the  top  instead  of  the  bottom.  They  under- 
took to  have  a  house  built  from  the  outside,  and 
without  foundation  and  frame.  If  they  had  begun 
with  a  profound  view  of  themselves  as  engaged 
in  a  personal  controversy  zvitJi  God,  enemies  to 
Him  and  having  Him  for  an  enemy,  and,  leaving 
everything  else,  had  betaken  themselves  to  the 
task  of  being  reconciled  to  Him,  a  good,  thorough 
Christian  life  would  have  grown  up  out  of  this 
reconciliation  as  naturally  as  a  tree  out  of  its 
sound  root. 

It  is  all  wasted  time  and  effort  —  that  spent  by 
any  person  in  trying  to  bring  impenitent  men  to  a 
Christian  course  of  life  by  direct  inculcation  of 
a  good  life  in  general,  or  of  particular  duties  in 
succession.    Could  I  paint  the  advantages  of  these 


276  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

things,  and  the  disadvantages  of  their  opposites, 
with  the  zeal,  skill,  and  eloquence  of  an  angel,  yet 
nothing  would  come  of  it.  This  is  not  the  way  to 
reform  men.  It  would  be  of  service  to  Christians 
who  have  already  the  root  of  the  matter  in  them  : 
but  for  those  who  have  still  to  begin  a  good  life, 
it  would  do  nothing  whatever.  A  Christian  life  is 
not  like  an  open  common  which  people  can  enter 
at  any  point  they  please.  Invite  the  villagers  by 
crier  to  come  into  that  unfenced  field,  and  lo,  they 
come  streaming  into  it  from  east  and  west,  north 
and  south  —  entering  at  any  point  where  they 
happen  to  be.  Sinners  cannot  enter  a  holy  life  in 
this  way.  There  is  a  gate  to  it,  and  but  one. 
Men  must  enter  through  this,  or  not  enter  at  all. 
And  this  gate  is  reconciliation.  It  is  to  this  one 
point  that  the  teacher  of  religion  is  to  press  the 
feet  of  sinners.  His  burden  must  be,  In  Christ's 
stead  I  beseech  you,  be  ye  reconciled  to  God.  It 
is  only  in  this  way  he  can  accomplish  any  thor- 
ough and  durable  reformations. 

It  is  a  mission  of  reconciliation  on  which  I 
am  sent  to  you  —  child  of  this  world  !  My  ob- 
ject is  not,  primarily,  to  make  you  better,  but 
to  close  a  ivar.  You  are  a  child  of  wrath. 
You   are,  whether  you  know  it  or  not,  an  enemy 


RECONCILTATION   THE   FrRST   THING.       277 

of  God  both  in  feeling  and  action  ;  and  God  as  a 
holy  sovereign  is  an  enemy  to  you.  Your  past 
life  is  full  of  unpardoned  sins  :  and  though,  from 
this  moment,  you  should  never  be  guilty  of  another 
offense,  still  you  have  that  fearful  account  in  the 
past  to  settle  with  the  abused  government  of  God. 
For  this,  God  is  threatening.  For  this,  His  right 
hand  is  taking  hold  on  judgment.  For  this,  He 
is  bending  His  bow  and  making  ready  His  arrows 
on  the  string  against  the  face  of  you  —  in  the  ex- 
ercise of  that  wrath  which  is  revealed  from  heaven 
against  all  unrighteousness  and  ungodliness  of 
men.  Here  is  the  great  fact  of  your  condition  ; 
and  it  is  just  here,  if  you  will  do  anything  for 
yourself,  you  must  begin  to  do.  There  is  but  one 
message  for  men  in  your  circumstances  —  Agree 
zvith  thine  advet'sary  quickly  zvhilst  thou  art  in  the 
way  with  him.  If  you  are  trying  to  be  better  in 
order  to  be  reconciled,  be  assured  that  you  must 
be  reconciled  in  order  to  be  better.  You  are  read- 
ing both  philosophy  and  Gospel  from  right  to  left. 
You  aspire  to  science  before  you  have  mastered 
letters.  Or,  if  you  are  trying  to  make  what  you 
consider  to  be  a  good  life  answer  instead  of  a  rec- 
onciliation —  not  liking  to  admit  that  God  and 
you  stand  related  as  antagonists  ;  and   liking  to 


278  PARIS//  CHR/ST/AN/TY. 

believe  that  your  character  and  life  are  already  so 
well-ordered  as  to  do  you  no  little  credit  in  Divine 
as  well  as  human  sight,  or  at  least  to  leave  you  on 
sufficiently  good  terms  with  that  Heavenly  Father 
who  knows  how  to  make  allowances  for  human 
frailty,  and  who  will  not  take  his  much-beset 
children  to  task  very  severely  for  omissions  and 
shortcomings  —  I  say,  if  you  are  trying  to  make  a 
respectable  life  answer  instead  of  reconciliation, 
let  me  assure  you  that  you  are  wasting  your  labor. 
Your  life,  respectable  and  orderly  as  it  is,  is  not 
good  in  a  religious  sense.  There  is  no  thorough 
conscientiousness  at  the  bottom  of  it ;  it  is  radi- 
cally selfish  ;  it  has  no  godliness  in  it.  Further, 
on  your  present  track  you  will  never  reach  any 
better  sort  of  life.  Though  you  should  live  never 
so  long  you  would  only  be  getting  into  worse  and 
worse  moral  position.  And,  further  still,  though 
your  life  now  and  from  this  time  forward,  be  as 
good  as  the  best,  without  the  element  of  rec- 
onciliation it  would  never  conduct  you  to  salva- 
tion. The  sins  you  Jiave  committed  must  be  par- 
doned. The  wrath  due  to  past  offenses  must  be 
put  to  rest.  Until  you  get  peace  with  God  at  the 
Cross  of  Jesus  you  do  just  nothing  toward  your 
salvation,  or  your  virtue  even.     The  Gospel  has 


RRCONCILTATION   THE   FIRST  TI/LVG.       279 

but  one  message  to  every  impenitent  sinner  ;  and 
it  all  lies  in  a  single  word,  Reconciliation.  Its 
ministry,  if  it  does  anything  for  the  sinner,  must  do 
it  as  a  ministry  of  Reconciliation.  Preaching, 
prayer,  evangelic  labors  of  every  description,  must 
press  him  to  the  point  of  Reconciliation  ;  or  they 
are  mere  idle  gymnastics,  exhausting  their  whole 
benefit  on  him  who  practices  them. 


XVIII. 

JUSTIFICATION    BY    FAITH 
ALONE. 


XVIII. 
JUSTIFICATION   BY  FAITH  ALONE. 

A  N  atonement  for  sin  having  been  made  in 
■^  ^  the  death  of  Christ,  God  can  consistently 
offer  sinners  conditions  of  reconcihation.  What 
are  they  ? 

"That  He  might  be  just  and  yet  the  justifier  of 
him  that  believeth  in  Jesus.  —  Seeing  it  is  one 
God  that  shall  justify  the  circumcision  by  faith 
and  the  uncircumcision  through  faith.  —  Being 
justified  by  faith  we  have  peace  with  God  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  —  God  gave  His  only  be- 
gotten Son,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him 
might  not  perish. — He  that  believeth  on  the  Son 
hath  everlasting  life. — Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto 
you,  he  that  believeth  on  Me  hath  everlasting  life. 
—  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  thou 
shalt  be  saved." 

What  is  meant  by  the  faith  to  which  reconcilia- 
tion with  God  is  thus  promised  .-*  Evidently,  not 
a  mere  intellectual  belief  that  Jesus  was  what  He 
claimed   to   be  ;    but   an  influential  belief  —  one 


284  PARISH  CIIRISTIANITY. 

that  leads  men  to  become  His  practical  disciples  ; 
believing  all  He  bids  them  believe,  and  setting 
themselves  to  do  all  He  bids  them  do.  When  the 
circumstances  under  which  Jesus  and  His  apostles 
spoke  are  properly  considered,  it  will  be  seen  that 
this  practical  sort  of  faith  is  what  they  must  have 
meant,  and  what  the  people  to  whom  they  spoke 
must  have  understood  them  to  mean. 

The  Messiah  whom  the  Jews  expected  was  an 
anointed  king.  The  whole  people  held  that  to 
Him  was  to  be  given  the  throne  of  His  father 
David,  that  He  was  to  reign  over  the  house  of 
Jacob  forever,  and  that  of  His  kingdom  was  to  be 
no  end.  Hence  when  Jesus  came  and  called  the 
nation  to  believe  that  He  was  the  Messiah,  they 
knew  that  in  that  very  act  He  was  laying  claim  to 
all  the  rights  and  dignities  confessedly  belonging 
to  that  character.  They  knew  that  He  wished  to 
be  believed  in  as  Christ  in  order  to  His  being 
obeyed  as  such.  And  when  He  promised  salvation 
as  the  reward  of  belief  they  all  understood  that 
He  meant  a  belief  that  would  set  a  man  to 
obeying.  Who  of  them  could  have  fancied  that 
Jesus  would  set  any  value  at  all  on  their  faith, 
except  as  the  means  of  leading  them  to  honor  and 
treat  Him  accordingly  }     When  Mohammed  came 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH  A  TONE.  28  5 

to  the  Arabians  and  offered  his  paradise  to  all  be- 
lievers in  him,  did  any  hearer  of  his  suppose  that 
a  disobedient  faith  would  answer,  or  that  the 
prophet  would  care  one  jot  for  such  a  faith  in  his 
mission  as  did  not  lead  men  to  treat  him  accord- 
ingly ?  Not  more  did  the  Jews  on  whom  Jesus 
called  for  faith.  It  did  not  enter  their  thoughts 
that  He  was  offering  rewards  for  a  bare  and  bar- 
ren speculation  which  would  not  influence  the 
conduct.  If  it  did,  it  was  in  despite  of  many, 
many  such  contradictions  as  this  :  "  Why  call  ye 
me  Lord,  Lord,  and  do  not  the  things  that  I 
say  ? " 

The  leading  character  in  which  Jesus  appeared 
until  His  death  was  that  of  a  teacher  come  from 
God.  He  stood  before  the  people  as  charged  with 
a  Divine  message  —  a  message  of  truths  and  laws, 
indorsed  by  miracles.  So  far  as  He  secured  a 
practical  reception  of  this  message,  so  far  was  He 
understood  to  regard  Himself  as  having  secured 
the  object  of  His  mission.  And  when  He  stood 
and  proclaimed  to  the  people,  He  that  believeth 
on  me  hath  everlasting  life,  it  is  hardly  possible 
that  a  single  hearer  could  have  been  so  preposter- 
ous as  to  think  that  Jesus  was  seeking  only  the 
cold  assent  of  the  understanding,  or  engaging  to 


286  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

lavish  eternal  rewards  on  what  neither  warms  the 
heart  nor  reforms  the  life. 

When  Jesus  sent  His  forerunner  He  sent  with 
him  this  message,  Repent,  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  at  hand.  When  He  came  in  person, 
He  opened  His  ministry  with.  Repent,  for  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand.  And  when  He 
sent  out  the  disciples,  two  by  two,  to  preach,  they 
went  out  and  preached  that  men  should  repent. 
In  short,  repentance  was  the  burden  of  the  early 
Christian  preaching.  The  people  everywhere 
knew  it  as  such.  And  when  faith  in  Jesus  was 
demanded  of  them,  they  knew  that  the  demand 
was  made  with  special  reference  to  the  repentance 
which  from  the  beginning  had  been  urgently 
sounding  in  their  ears.  What  would  He  care  for 
a  faith  that  left  a  man  as  impenitent  as  ever  .'' 

Under  the  circumstances,  then,  Jesus  must 
have  meant,  and  the  people  to  whom  He  spoke 
must  have  understood  Him  to  mean,  a  practical 
faith  in  Himself  —  one  that  leads  a  man  to  act- 
ually enter  on  the  whole  Christian  service.  It  is 
abundantly  declared,  the  Bible  through,  that  any 
other  sort  of  faith  is  dead  and  worthless,  as  means 
of  acceptance  with  God.  But  this  suffices.  It 
includes  trust  in  the  Savior.     It  includes  repent- 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH  ALONE.  28/ 

ance,  i.  e.,  sorrow  for  sin  and  an  honest  purpose  to 
forsake  it.  It  is  practically  the  equivalent  of  trust 
and  repentance  ;  so  that  these  are  often  used  in- 
terchangeably with  it,  both  in  the  language  of  the 
church  and  in  the  Scriptures. 

Behold  the  means,  the  only  means,  by  which 
the  sinner  can  lay  hold  of  the  Cross  of  Christ 
and  become  reconciled  to  God  !  I  emphasize 
the  word  only  because  not  a  few  persons  are  in- 
clined to  connect  something  else  with  faith  as  a 
means  of  justification — in  some  cases  to  substi- 
tute something  else  for  it.  Set  it  down  as  a  sure 
matter  that  it  is  faith,  and  notJiing  besides,  on 
which  the  Scriptures  condition  the  sinner's  recon- 
ciliation with  God. 

It  is  a  doctrine  of  the  Roman  Church  that  one 
cannot  secure  peace  with  God  without  works  of 
penance.  No  matter  what  the  state  of  the  heart 
may  be,  he  must  practice  certain  outward  self- 
denials,  mortifications,  punishments,  proportioned 
in  severity  to  his  sinfulness,  as  a  satisfaction  for 
it,  before  he  can  be  forgiven.  He  must  abstain 
from  food.  He  must  wear  the  sackcloth  and 
pointed  cross.  He  must  expose  himself  to  cold, 
vigils,  shame.  He  must  make  a  toilsome  pilgrim- 
age to  the  shrine  of  some  saint,  and  there  smite 


288  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

himself  with  the  knotted  cord,  and  repeat  his 
hundreds  of  prayers.  Only  in  some  such  way, 
according  to  the  Roman  scheme,  can  a  sinner 
come  to  a  reconciliation  with  God  and  an  interest 
in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven. 

In  opposition  to  this  view,  Protestants  have 
always  maintained  the  doctrine  of  justification  by 
faith  alone.  They  claim,  and  have  always  claimed, 
that  outward  works,  and  not  merely  such  but 
works  of  every  description  other  than  the  simple 
act  of  faith,  are  of  no  direct  help  whatever  in 
making  our  peace  with  God.  For  this  purpose 
penances  are  worth  nothing,  moralities  are  worth 
nothing,  unlimited  Christian  graces  and  gracious 
deeds  are  worth  nothing.  They  have  their  uses, 
and  some  of  these  uses  are  as  glorious  as  Heaven  ; 
but  to  justify  the  sinner  before  God,  either  wholly 
or  in  part,  is  not  one  of  them.  This  great  office 
is  reserved  for  faith.  It  alone  is  the  instrument 
by  which  we  can  lay  hold  on  the  atonement  of 
Christ  so  as  to  make  it  avail  for  the  pardon  of 
our  sins. 

I  have  already  given  you  some  specimens  of 
the  passages  in  which  acceptance  with  God  is 
conditioned  on  faith.  Were  we  to  go  over  all  the 
many  passages  that  speak  of  the  means  of  recon- 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH  ALONE.  289 

ciliation,  we  should  find  nothing  said  about  any- 
thing save  faith,  or  its  practical  equivalents,  such 
as  trust  and  repentance.  Not  a  word  of  anything 
else  as  being  necessary.  It  is  fair  to  conclude 
that  nothing  else  is  necessary.  As  says  Paul, 
Wherefore  I  conclude  that  a  man  is  justified  by 
faith  without  the  deeds  of  the  law. 

In  accordance  with  this  view  is  the  case  of  the 
thief  on  the  cross.     Surely  that  man  is  already 
accepted   to  whom  it  is  said.  To-day  shalt  thou 
be  with   me  in  Paradise.     And  yet   only   a  few 
moments  have  passed  since  he  was  reviling  the 
Savior.     He  has   had   no   opportunity  for    good 
works  —  no  opportunity  to  prosecute  the  Chris- 
tian discipleship,  only  to  enter  on  it.    He  has  only 
been  able  to  renounce  his  sins  in  heart  and  pur- 
pose, and  in  heart  and  purpose  take  up  the  ser- 
vice of  Christ  :  and  it  seems  that  this  was  enough 
to  gain  him  acceptance.     Christ  did  not  wait  for 
deeds  of  the  law  to  follow  in  their  lovely  proces- 
sion before  He  gave  the  expiring  man  assurance 
of   a  home  in  the   bosom  of  a  reconciled   God. 
Are  we  to  suppose  that  this  is  the  only  case  that , 
has  ever  occurred  of   repentance   and  pardon  at 
the  very  close  of  life.?     No  doubt  death-bed  con- 
versions are  rare,  but  that  some  such  do  occur, 
19 


290  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

probably  no  one  will  care  to  question.  Sinful 
souls,  like  the  crucified  thief,  have  properly  begun 
to  rejoice  in  the  Divine  favor  just  as  they  were 
about  to  launch  away  from  the  shores  of  time. 
Had  anything  beyond  a  simple  renunciation  of 
sin,  and  acceptance  of  Christ's  discipleship  in  the 
heart  and  will,  been  necessary  to  their  reconcilia- 
tion with  God,  they  could  never  have  had  such 
reconciliation  in  this  world.  They  could  show  no 
habit  of  good  works  —  not  even  individual  in- 
stances of  them.  Faith  was  the  utmost  they 
could  show  as  means  of  justification.  They  had 
entered,  in  heart  and  purpose,  on  the  Christian 
way,  but  had  done  nothing  more,  when  the  sum- 
mons came  to  cross  the  flood  and  be  with  Christ, 
and  with  him  who  so  suddenly  passed  from  a 
malefactor's  character  and  doom  into  a  welcom- 
ing Heaven. 

This  is  according  to  the  views  of  all  the  denomr 
inations  called  evangelical.  No  one  supposes  that 
pardon  of  sin  is  delayed  a  single  moment  after  the 
sinner  has  truly  believed,  repented,  trusted  in 
Christ,  been  converted,  been  regenerated.  We 
use  various  terms  ;  but  we  mean  by  them  one  and 
the  same  thing  ;  and  we  locate  that  thing  on  the 
appearance    of   which    pardon    promptly    comes 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH  ALONE.  29 1 

forth,  at  the  very  outset  of  the  Christian  disciple- 
ship.  Indeed,  it  is  that  outset.  The  sinner  passes 
the  "  strait  gate  at  the  head  of  the  way,"  in  the 
act  of  faith. 

Notice  what  is  not  impHed  in  this  doctrine  of 
justification  by  faith  alone. 

It  is  not  implied  that  good  works  are  of  no 
value  in  the  sight  of  God.  The  teaching  merely 
is  that  they  are  of  no  value  as  means  of  jiistifica- 
tioii.  For  other  purposes  they  are  inestimable. 
They  are  so  many  bright  helps  to  a  nobler  nature 
and  happiness  in  ourselves  and  others.  God  is 
praised  by  their  shining.  They  are  evidences 
that  we  have  the  kind  of  faith  that  justifies.  They 
help  work  that  faith  in  others.  And  so  the  Script- 
ures largely  command  us  to  be  "  careful  to  main- 
tain good  works  for  necessary  uses,  as  being  good 
and  profitable  unto  men  ; "  and  every  Christian 
sanctuary  is  continually  resounding  the  command. 

It  is  not  implied  that  the  chief  reason  why  God 
has  made  faith  the  means  of  justification  is  not 
its  tendency  to  produce  good  works.  I  suppose 
this  tendency  to  be  the  chief  reason.  For  one,  I 
have  no  doubt  that  were  faith  to  lose  this  precious 
quality  it  would  at  once  lose  the  high  place  of 
honor   it   now   holds    as    the   minister   of    God's 


292  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

friendship  ;  and  that  were  some  other  vohintary 
act  to  gain  what  faith  loses  it  would  at  once  take 
faith's  place  in  the  economy  of  redemption.  And 
yet  I  have  as  little  doubt  that  good  works  other 
than  faith  are  of  no  use  whatever  in  procuring  our 
acceptance  with  God.  To  begin  heartily  Christ's 
discipleship  is  the  first  thing,  the  last  thing,  the 
everything,  in  signing  and  sealing  our  title  to 
eternal  life. 

Nor  is  it  implied  that  good  works  are  not  even 
essential  to  salvation.  We  are  to  believe  with  all 
our  hearts  that  whoever  will  not  do  good  works 
will  certainly  perish.  If  the  liar  will  not  give 
himself  to  truth-telling,  if  the  drunkard  will  not 
give  himself  to  temperance,  if  the  thief  will  not 
practice  honesty,  if  the  sabbath-breaker  will  not 
hallow  the  day  of  rest,  if  the  swearer  will  not  re- 
vere the  name  of  God,  if  the  covetous  man  will 
not  quit  his  covetousness,  if  the  selfish  man  will 
not  quit  his  selfishness  —  they  shall  have  their 
part  in  the  lake  that  burneth  with  fire  and  brim- 
stone. If  any  one  goes  on  neglecting  any  known 
duty  to  the  end  of  life,  he  will  come  to  endless 
ruin.  It  is  common  for  the  Scriptures  to  single 
out  duties  and  declare,  directly  or  indirectly,  that 
there   is   no   salvation  without  performing  them. 


JUSTIFICATION  BY  FAITH  ALONE.  293 

And  yet  it  is  true,  that  not  one  of  the  shining  as- 
semblage of  virtues  which  come  from  faith  has 
anything  to  do  in  justifying  men.  That  they  do 
not  help  justify  does  not  show  that  they  are  not 
inseparably  connected  with  what  does  justify  — 
any  more  than  the  fact  that  a  man's  living  does 
not  give  him  the  favor  of  men  shows  that  he  can 
have  that  favor  without  living. 

The  Scriptures  sometimes  mean  by  faith  mere 
speculative  belief  It  is  proper,  where  the  word 
is  used  in  this  sense,  to  deny,  as  the  Apostle 
James  does,  that  faith  alone  justifies  ;  and  to 
affirm,  as  he  does,  that  works  in  addition  are  nec- 
essary. This  is  merely  saying  that  a  justifying 
faith  is  dX-sNciys  practical. 

Men  are  strongly  disposed  by  nature  to  modify 
the  Divine  plan  of  justification.  When  moralists 
look  on  their  fair  moralities,  they  are  tempted  to 
think  such  beauty  and  usefulness  viust  do  some- 
thing toward  softening  in  their  favor  the  heart  of 
God.  But  such  an  idea  must  not  be  allowed.  It 
is  dangerous.  Glorious  and  indispensable  as  good 
works  are,  we  must  count  them  as  having  no  re- 
lation to  our  acceptance  with  God  as  a  lawgiver, 
further  than  as  means,  or  evidences,  or  fulfillments 
of   the   faith    that    secures  acceptance.     Let   the 


294  PARISH  CHKISTIAiYITY. 

moralist  think  highly  of  his  fair  and  useful  ways 
—  verily  I  say  to  you  that  he  has  his  reward, 
and  that  they  may  lead  him  through  Divine  grace 
to  become  a  true  believer.  Let  the  Christian 
value  much  the  works  of  righteousness  which  he 
does  —  they  are  proofs  that  he  has  already  be- 
lieved to  the  saving  of  his  soul.  But  let  both  re- 
member that  a  man  is  justified  by  faith  without 
the  deeds  of  the  law. 


XIX. 

FAITH    EXPRESSING    ITSELF    IN 
THE    GREAT    DECISION. 


XIX. 

FAITH    EXPRESSING    ITSELF    IN    THE 
GREAT   DECISION. 

\  "I  7  HAT  religion  consisted  in  under  the  Old 
^  *  Dispensation  is  easily  discovered.  It  con- 
sisted in  "doing  justly,  loving  mercy,  and  walk- 
ing humbly  with  God  ;  "  in  "  serving  the  Lord  ;  " 
in  "  obeying  the  voice  of  the  Lord  ; "  in  "  remem- 
bering His  commandments  to  do  them  ; "  in 
"  keeping  His  statutes  and  judgments."  An  an- 
cient Jew,  who  conscientiously  set  himself  to  do 
and  be  whatever  God  wished,  was  reckoned  a 
good  man  ;  and  God,  in  passages  of  the  Old 
Testament  too  numerous  to  mention,  promised 
to  stand  his  friend  under  all  circumstances. 

As  little  doubt  is  there  as  to  how  religion  began 
in  men  in  Old  Testament  times.  "  Let  the  wicked 
forsake  his  way  and  the  unrighteous  man  his 
thoughts  ;  and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord  who 
will  have  mercy  upon  him."  "  When  I  say  to  the 
wicked.  Thou  shalt  surely  die,  if  he  turn  from  his 
sin  and  do  that  which  is  lawful  and  right  ;  if  the 


298  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

wicked  restore  the  pledge,  give  again  that  which 
he  had  robbed,  walk  in  the  statutes  of  life,  he 
shall  surely  live."  "  He  that  covereth  his  sins 
shall  not  prosper ;  but  he  that  confesseth  and  for- 
saketh  them  shall  have  mercy."  "  Turn  ye  to  me 
with  all  your  heart,  and  with  fasting,  and  with 
weeping,  and  with  mourning ;  and  rend  your 
heart  and  not  your  garments,  and  turn  unto  the 
Lord  your  God,  for  He  is  gracious  :  who  knoweth 
if  He  will  return  and  leave  a  blessing  behind 
Him  }  "  "  Therefore  now  mend  your  ways  and 
your  doings,  and  obey  the  voice  of  the  Lord  your 
God  ;  and  the  Lord  will  repent  Him  of  the  evil 
that  He  hath  pronounced  against  you."  Accord- 
ingly, when  the  Jews,  or  the  Ninevites,  or  indi- 
vidual sinners  from  among  them,  regretted  their 
sins,  confessed  them,  asked  pardon  for  them,  and 
honestly  set  themselves  to  put  them  all  away, 
God  became  reconciled  to  them.  They  entered 
on  a  new  character,  and  into  new  relations  with 
God. 

Do  not  let  any  suppose  that  religion  is  a  differ- 
ent thing  now  from  what  it  was  under  the  Old 
Dispensation  ;  or  suppose  that  it  begins  in  a  dif- 
ferent way.  Goodness  is  not  a  costume  —  one 
thing  in  one  age  and  another  thing  in  another.    It 


THE   GREA  T  DECISIOX.  299 

has  a  stable  nature  of  its  own,  which  it  carries 
with  it  into  all  climates,  all  ages,  and  all  persons. 
That  which  made  Abraham  a  good  man,  or  Job, 
or  David,  or  Daniel,  was  the  same  thing  that  made 
Peter,  or  Paul,  or  Augustine,  or  Melancthon,  or 
Martyn,  a  good  man.  Of  course  it  is  so  —  virtue 
is  one  of  the  unchangeables  in  its  constitution. 
And  men  come  to  it  in  precisely  the  same  way 
now  they  always  have  done.  The  strait  gate  of 
the  New  Testament  is  just  the  strait  gate  of  the 
Old,  without  one  single  jot  of  alteration.  Tim- 
bers, hinge,  latch — it  is  one  and  the  same  thing. 
The  ancient  confessed  his  sins,  was  sorry  for 
them,  asked  pardon  for  them,  set  himself  honestly 
and  universally  to  reformation,  and  so  became  a 
forgiven  and  righteous  man  ;  the  modern  does  the 
same  thing  with  the  same  result.  The  ancient 
asked  pardon  through  such  sacrifice  as  was  known 
to  him  ;  the  modern  asks  it  through  such  sacri- 
fice as  is  known  to  him  —  the  one  received  par- 
don through  the  Christ  that  would  come ;  the 
other  receives  it  through  the  Christ  that  has 
come  —  the  one  regretted  and  forsook  such  sins 
as  an  Old  Dispensation  showed  ;  the  other  regrets 
and  forsakes  such  sins  as  are  shown  by  the  New 
Dispensation  with  its  fuller  light  :  but,  after  all. 


300  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  gate  of  life  to  both  is  one  thing,  viz.,  an  hiflu- 
e7itial  faith  i?i  God,  one  securing  a  full  and  hearty 
renunciation  of  every  sin,  a  full  decision  of  mind 
to  serve  God  in  all  the  ways  of  His  appointment, 
whether  relating  to  outward  conduct  or  to  states 
of  mind. 

This  decision,  by  which  men  always  enter  the 
kingdom  of  God,  is  always  the  work  of  the  Holy 
Spirit.  It  is,  of  course,  real,  hearty,  and  thor- 
ough. Not  against  some  sins,  but  against  all 
sins.  Not  to  begin  putting  away  sin  to-morrow, 
but  to  begin  immediately.  Not  to  hold  out 
against  sin  for  a  time  —  it  covers  the  whole 
ground  of  future  existence,  and  says,  With  God's 
help,  I  will  never  more  allow  myself  in  anything 
forbidden  by  conscience  and  Scripture.  It  is  of 
course  an  intelligent  decision  —  based  on  a  fair 
understanding  of  what  the  service  of  God  is,  of 
the  duties  it  requires  and  the  sins  it  forbids. 
Such  a  decision  as  this  carries  with  it  repentance 
and  faith  and  good  works,  and  is  the  one  gate  to 
Heaven  for  all  classes  and  generations  of  men  — 
for  Antediluvians  and  Postdiluvians,  for  Old  Dis- 
pensation sinners  and  sinners  of  the  New  Dispen- 
sation, for  sinners  of  Christendom  or  heathendom. 
It  was  this  by  which  the  Pentecostal  thousands 


THE    GREAT  DECISION.  30I 

came  into  the  kingdom  ;  by  which  the  Phihppian 
jailer  became  a  Christian  disciple  ;  by  which  Saul 
became  Paul,  and  asked,  Lord  what  wilt  thou 
have  me  do  ;  by  which  a  great  company  of  priests 
became  obedient  to  the  faith.  It  was  this  that 
began  religion  in  all  the  old  martyrs  and  confes- 
sors of  the  church,  in  the  venerated  Protestant 
reformers,  in  our  own  God-fearing  ancestral  Pil- 
grims, in  all  present  "  living  epistles."  And  it  is 
just  this  decision,  and  nothing  else,  that  must 
make  yo2i,  a  Christian  and  regenerate  person, 
should  you  ever  become  such. 

Decide,  my  friend,  on  being  such.  Resolve  on 
a  universal,  eternal,  and  immediate  keeping  of  the 
commandments,  with  God's  help  and  to  the  best 
of  your  ability.  Resolve  on  a  life  of  prayer. 
Make  up  your  mind  to  a  life-long  cleaving  to  the 
Scriptures  and  all  other  means  of  grace.  Declare 
to  yourself  that  you  will  hallow  sabbaths  and 
sanctuaries  and  sacraments.  Promise  yourself 
that  you  will  mortify  selfishness,  anger,  revenge, 
pride,  envy,  deceit,  covetousness,  uncharitable- 
ness,  and  all  other  bad  mental  states.  Come 
under  contract  with  yourself  that  you  will  not 
allow  yourself  in  intemperance,  profanity,  dis- 
honesty,   idleness,    slander,   promise-breaking,    or 


302  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

any  other  offense  against  the  public  or  private 
weal  of  men  ;  but  will,  on  the  contrary,  lead  a 
gentle,  helpful,  forgiving  life  toward  all  men. 
Covenant  with  yourself  that  you  will  aim  at  be- 
ing conscientious,  public-spirited,  placable,  gen- 
erous, a  lover  of  good  men,  a  lover  and  truster  of 
Almighty  God  and  His  Son  Jesus  ;  that  you  will 
stand  up  boldly  for  Jesus  and  His  religion  ;  that 
you  will  glorify  Him  as  you  best  may  on  the  right 
and  left ;  that  you  will  be  baptized  in  His  name, 
and  '  do  this  in  remembrance  of  Him,'  —  in  a 
word,  that  you  will  obey  conscience  and  Script- 
ure as  servants  of  Christ,  looking  for  salvation 
to  Him  alone.  Do  it  with  your  whole  heart. 
In  this  way  you  will  appropriate  the  great  sacri- 
fice of  Jesus  and  a  new  character. 

Does  this  seem  too  small  and  simple  a  matter 
to  be  the  essence  of  conversion,  and  of  God's 
plan  for  saving  men  .^  "  Say  not  in  thy  heart. 
Who  shall  ascend  into  heaven  —  the  word  is  nigh 
thee."  So  nigh  a  thing  as  an  intelligent  and 
whole-hearted  decision  to  serve  Jesus  in  all  the 
ways  of  His  appointment.  And  by  no  means  a 
small  thing  is  this.  It  involves  a  host  of  particu- 
lar decisions.  It  is  really  making  up  your  mind 
to  enter  on  a  life-long  and  most  laborious  contest 


THE   GREAT  DECISION.  3O3 

with  easily  besetting  sins  and  all  manner  of  sin. 
If  you  have  a  sin  that  is  to  you  as  youi"  right 
hand  or  right  eye,  you  must  decide  to  give  that 
up.  An  honest  resolve  to  make  the  will  of  God 
the  guide  of  life  changes  the  whole  drift  and  pol- 
icy of  that  life  ;  henceforth  it  has  a  new  motive, 
a  new  direction,  a  new  foundation,  a  new  epoch. 
And  then  what  a  shining  train  of  results  this  il- 
lustrious decision  draws  after  it !  As  soon  as  the 
soul  decides  for  God,  He  decides  for  the  soul. 
The  Lamb's  Book  of  Life  takes  a  new  name. 
Heaven  gets  ready  a  new  mansion.  The  soul  it- 
self receives  new  affections,  a  new  character,  a 
new  birth.  A  decision  that  has  such  a  nature, 
and  such  vast  results,  deserves  to  be  called  great. 
There  are  few  things  that  God  would  call  great  ; 
but  doubtless  this  is  one  of  the  few  —  that  decis- 
ion which  revolutionizes  the  character  and  pros- 
pects of  a  man  for  an  eternity.  There  are  many 
things  that  man  would  call  great  ;  but  if  he  neg- 
lects to  put  at  the  head  of  them  all,  so  far  as 
they  are  earth-born  and  earth-dwelling,  the  decis- 
ion that  changes  a  child  of  Satan  into  a  child  of 
God,  and  an  heir  of  hell  into  an  heir  of  Heaven, 
he  commits  one  of  the  wildest  of  mistakes  and 
absurdities. 


304  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

We  sometimes  speak  of  conversion  as  a  "  break- 
ing down  of  the  will."  This  is  proper  language, 
but  still  language  that  needs  to  be  guarded.  The 
will-power  is  not  broken  down  in  conversion  at 
all.  There  is  a  great  change  in  its  direction,  but 
none  at  all,  necessarily,  in  the  force  of  its  action. 
Formerly  it  decided  strongly  against  the  service 
of  Christ ;  now  it  decides  strongly  for  it,  and  the 
decision  should  grow  stronger  and  stronger.  A 
man  who  has  become  a  Christian  is  none  the  less 
a  man  of  resolution  than  before  ;  has  just  as  much 
mind  of  his  own,  is  capable  of  just  as  energetic 
choices,  is  just  as  willful  (using  the  term  in  its 
primary  sense)  as  ever.  Only  he  is  resolute  for 
holiness  instead  of  sin,  has  a  mind  of  his  own  to 
do  right  instead  of  to  do  wrong,  energetically 
chooses  Christ's  service  instead  of  Satan's,  is  set 
in  the  narrow  path  instead  of  the  broad  one. 

How  shall  a  man  know  that  he  has  made  the 
Great  Decision  .-'  There  are  sources  of  mistake. 
Sad  mistakes  are  often  made.  Still  it  seems  as  if 
one  ought  to  be  able  to  know  whether  his  will  is 
fully  concluded  on  the  service  of  Christ  or  not  ; 
and  he  may  know  by  taking  proper  pains.  He 
can  hardly  tell  by  comparing  his  experience  with 
that  of  others,  as  to  circumstantials  —  say,  as  to 


TriE    GREAT  DECISION.  305 

the  amount  of  previous  anxiety  and  struggle  he 
has  had,  the  amount  of  happiness  he  feels,  the  ease 
he  has  in  doing  certain  Christian  duties.  Persons 
may  differ  widely  as  to  all  these  particulars,  and 
still  all  have  made  the  great  Evangelical  Decision. 
But  there  is  one  test  that  is  very  accessible,  very 
decisive.  How  does  yonder  man  know  that  he 
has  decided  to  go  to  the  city  immediately  1  If 
in  no  other  way,  he  knows  it  by  the  fact  that  he 
is  busy  in  the  process  of  going.  His  feet  are  on 
the  way,  his  face  is  in  the  right  direction,  he  is 
traveling  with  might  and  main  westward.  How 
may  the  sinner  know  that  he  has  truly  and  thor- 
oughly made  the  Great  Decision  .-*  Let  him  ask 
himself  whether  he  has  actually  begun  to  be 
busy  in  the  attempt  to  do  all  the  various  duties  of 
the  Christian  service.  No  man  has  a  right  to  be 
sure  that  he  has  decided  on  an  immediate  service 
of  Christ  until  he  finds  himself  actually  serving 
Him.  When  he  finds  that  he  is  really  going  to- 
ward the  city  he  may  conclude  that  he  has  de- 
cided to  go.  When  he  finds  that,  in  point  of  fact, 
he  is  busy  in  doing  all  Christian  duties,  he  may 
conclude  that  he  has  really  decided  to  do  them. 
Satan  is  such  a  deceiver  that  nothing  short  of  this, 
combined  with  prayer  for  Divine  searching,  will 


20 


306  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

answer  as  a  test.  Many  a  man  thinks  he  has  de- 
cided on  immediate  Christianity,  and  there  he 
stops.  Men  look  to  see  his  decision  pass  into  per- 
formance, as  it  woukl  undoubtedly  do  if  it  were 
genuine  —  but  they  look  in  vain.  The  fact  is, 
there  is  a  mistake.  The  Great  Decision  is  yet 
unmade.  A  mere  echo  and  engraving  of  the 
blessing  has  been  palmed  off  on  the  unhappy  man 
by  the  adroit  adversary,  instead  of  the  blessing 
itself.  Had  he  truly  resolved  on  immediate  and 
universal  obedience,  the  immediate  and  universal 
obedience  would  have  followed  —  at  least  in  effort 
and  struggle. 

The  ancient  Romans  rewarded  remarkable  ben- 
efactors and  deliverers  of  the  State  by  declaring 
in  full  Senate  that  they  had  "deserved  well  of 
their  country."  I  know  a  man  who  deserves  well 
of  himself.  It  is  he  who  has  made  the  Great 
Decision.  Let  reason  and  conscience,  and  all 
things  within  him,  rise  in  their  places  and  say. 
Well  Done  !  He  has  delivered  and  founded  the 
second  time  his  Rome.  By  grace  of  God  he 
has  done  wonders  for  both  his  eternity  and  time. 
He  has  solved  the  problem  of  life,  and  gotten  a 
most  fair  and  promising  answer  —  has  turned  the 
sharp  corner  of  his  life-travel,  and  shall  henceforth 


THE   GREA  T  DECISION.  307 

find  it  upward  as  well  as  onward.  He  is  a  saved 
man.  Now  he  has  a  right  to  be  happy.  Now  it 
is  reasonable  that  he  should  smile  and  enjoy 
himself.  Now  it  is  no  longer  infatuation  for  him 
to  be  cool  in  dangers,  and  courageous  in  death, 
and  sublimely  philosophic  as  to  all  the  chances  of 
the  future.  He  has  beautifully  crystallized  his 
vaporous  and  fleeting  opportunities,  enjoyments, 
and  interests  of  all  sorts  ;  and  now  he  may  hope 
that  beautiful  crystals  they  will  remain  as  long  as 
the  domed  heavens  shall  stand  and  echo  to  the 
praising  angels.  Wise  man  !  Let  all  his  friends 
congratulate  him  ;  for  he  has  put,  not  only  his 
main  chance,  but  all  his  chances  into  an  Ark  so 
stanch  that  it  can  defy  all  the  hazards '  of  the 
seas,  and  buffet  uninjured  the  waves  and  blasts  of 
death  and  judgment,  and  ride  out  safely  every 
gale  that  man  can  send  or  God  will  send : 

And  when  the  waves  of  ire 

Again  the  earth  shall  fill, 
That  Ark  shall  ride  the  sea  of  fire, 

Then  rest  on  Zion's  hill. 

But  yo7t  —  ah,  you  are  one  of  that  large  class 
with  whom  the  Great  Decision  is  yet  unmade  ! 
What  shall  I  say  to  you  .''  What  can  I  say,  save 
that  which  you  have  long  known  as  the  burden  of 


308  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

many  a  sermon,  and,  what  is  of  more  consequence, 
of  many  a  Scripture —  tlie  necessity  for  your  coin- 
ing to  the  Great  Decision  is  extreme.  Bestir  your- 
self. Ask  for  the  Holy  Spirit.  Make  up  your 
mind  on  the  side  of  Christ  and  His  service. .  Let 
all  the  power  of  your  will  go  forth  in  a  sublime 
decree  against  sin.  Promptly  and  mightily  prom- 
ise yourself  that,  with  help  of  God,  the  Bible  shall 
be  the  emperor  of  your  life.  No  manner  nor 
measure  of  waiting,  no  fortunate  concurrence  of 
circumstances,  will  ever  enable  you  to  dispense 
with  this  step.  It  imist  be  taken.  You  must 
commit  yourself.  You  must  find  some  way  of 
ending  your  hesitation,  and  of  thrusting  yourself 
down  what  seems  to  you  a  precipice,  into  the 
Great  Decision.  It  may  break  all  your  bones. 
But  by  losing  your  life  in  this  way  you  will  save  it. 
Nothing  else  will.  And  remember  that  it  is  a 
peculiarly  precious  life  of  which  I  am  now  speak- 
ing. The  question  whether  you  will  make  the 
Great  Decision  is  really  a  question  whether  your 
soul  shall  live  or  die  —  whether  your  character 
and  eternity  shall  live  or  die.  How  will  you  an- 
swer it  ?  May  it  be  so  as  to  send  a  thrill  of  joy 
through  the  loving  and  lovely  Heaven  above  — ■ 
may  it  be  so  as  to  send  a  thrill  of  disappointment 
through  the  hating  and  hateful  Hell  below ! 


XX. 
THE    TWO   GOALS. 


XX. 

THE   TWO    GOALS. 

"\  T  /"E  are  all  moving  in  company.  The  move- 
*  '  ment  is  swift,  steady,  resistless.  Swiftly  as 
the  planets  go  —  as  uninterruptedly,  as  helplessly, 
as  noiselessly,  we  pass  by  moments,  hours,  days, 
years.  In  this  journey  the  child  moves  as  freely 
as  the  adult  ;  trembling  age,  bed-ridden  sickness, 
as  freely  as  hardy  and  muscular  manhood  in  its 
prime.  The  rough  places  and  the  smooth,  the 
narrow  defiles  and  the  open  country,  the  steep 
mountain  slopes  and  the  level  plains,  the  pitchy 
nights  and  golden  days,  are  all  traversed  at  the 
same  unfaltering  and  mighty  pace.  We  cannot 
stop  a  single  instant  if  we  would.  Though  we 
turn  our  faces  wishfully  back  on  yesterday,  though 
we  grasp  on  the  right  and  the  left  at  the  ob- 
jects we  shoot  so  swiftly  by,  yet  we  find  it  im- 
possible to  stop,  or  even  check  in  the  least,  our 
flying  feet.  We  are  mere  leaves  scouring  the 
highway  before  the  blast.  Prayer  to  a  Higher 
Power  will  help  us  about  many  things  :  but  even 


312  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

prayer,  however  earnest  and  persevering,  cannot 
help  us  here.  It  is  as  if  some  Fate  has  crept 
into  our  bodies  and  has  mastered  us  out  of  the 
command  of  them,  and  is  running  us  to  death, 
over  mountain  and  plain,  through  morass  and 
flood,  onward  to  the  world's  end. 

Thus  pressed  fiercely  on  toward  the  horizon,  it 
is  natural  for  us  to  cast  our  eyes  anxiously  in  the 
direction  we  are  moving  to  see  what  we  can  dis- 
cover. To  what  scenes  and  fates  are  we  making 
our  way  .-'  On  yonder  dim  horizon,  what  is  there 
that  we  should  dread,  or  delight,  to  approach  } 
Socrates  and  Plato,  in  circumstances  like  ours, 
asked  themselves  these  questions  ;  and,  with  fixed, 
earnest  eyes  looking  before  them  far  away  to  the 
extreme  verge  of  vision,  tried  to  make  out  the  out- 
lines of  the  misty  and  difficult  landscape.  At 
times  they  thought  themselves  not  altogether 
unsuccessful.  So  we  now  look  before  our  flying 
feet  —  fixedly,  earnestly  —  far  away  to  wh  re  t  e 
heaven  and  earth  come  together,  but  where  we 
shall  be  very  soon,  at  our  present  whirlwind  pace. 
Our  eyes  are  dim  and  the  distance  is  great  ;  but 
is  not  that  low  cloud  black  beyond  nature,  and  is 
there  not  just  now  a  luridness  lighting  its  lower 
edsre }     What   means    that   lonsc  red  line .''     And 


TEIE    TWO    GOALS.  313 

what  are  those  objects  (mere  motes  they  seem  at 
this  distance)  continually  shooting  down  into  it 
and  disappearing  ?  Can  it  be  that  they  are  swift- 
paced  travelers  like  ourselves,  falling  down  preci- 
pices into  a  miserable  end,  and  that  we  are  threat- 
ened with  a  similar  fate  ?  —  But  we  seem  to  catch 
other  glimpses.  Another  cloud,  on  the  extreme 
of  vision,  under  our  questioning  eyes  appears  to 
shape  itself  indistinctly  into  the  walls  and  towers, 
the  domes  and  pinnacles,  of  a  beautiful  city.  We 
see  nothing  clearly  ;  we  would  not  venture  to  say 
that  our  weak  sight  is  not  playing  us  false  ;  but 
are  not  yonder  the  outlines  of  palaces,  flushed 
with  a  light  so  soft  and  rich  as  was  never  seen  on 
the  structures  of  earth  }  If  so,  perhaps  this  fair 
home  can  be  the  goal  of  our  impetuous  and  invol- 
untary journeying.  We  wish  we  could  see  more. 
We  strain  our  eyes,  we  peer  into  the  shadowy 
distance  again  and  again,  in  hope  of  more  reliable 
views.  But  in  vain.  We  have  gone  the  length 
of  the  natural  vision.  What  shall  we  do  now } 
In  our  perplexity,  we  bethink  ourselves  of  a  j^ow- 
erful  glass,  cajDable  of  bringing  distant  things  nigh 
and  putting  the  obscure  in  a  flood  of  light.  We 
hold  it  to  our  eye.  We  bring  it  to  bear  on  that 
uncertain  cloudy  terror,  with  fast  beating  hearts. 


314  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Oh,  dreadful  sight !  Fellow-traveler,  our  conject- 
ures were  all  too  true.  It  is  a  red,  flaming  Abyss. 
Those  objects  shooting  continually  into  it  are 
travel-worn  men  like  ourselves,  and  on  that  over- 
hanging blackness  of  cloud  we  can  spell  out  in 
fiery  characters,  "  The  smoke  of  their  torment 
ascendeth  up  forever  and  ever.  " —  We  bring  the 
powerful  glass  to  bear  again.  It  also  is  real  —  that 
fair  City.  Never  have  we  seen  such  beauty  ;  such 
soft,  delicious  brightness.  Walls  and  towers  of 
gems  ;  gates  of  pearls  ;  pavements  of  transparent 
gold  ;  palaces  of  spotless  alabaster ;  inhabitants 
beautiful  as  the  day,  wearing  snowy  vestures  and 
kingly  crowns,  and  some  among  them  with  the 
stamp  of  humanity  (and  what  a  humanity)  in  their 
beaming  and  transfigured  faces.  Love  and  rapt- 
ure breathe  in  their  every  look  and  movement. 
And  every  shining  gate  and  every  rosy  cloud 
say.  And  they  shall  go  no  more  out  forever.  Ah, 
friend,  those  distant  landscapes  are  no  longer  a 
conjecture.  All  is  plain  now.  That  vague,  shad- 
owy horizon  has  given  up  its  secrets,  and,  beyond 
a  doubt,  the  two  goals  toward  which  men  are  so 
helplessly  driving  are  Heaven  and  Hell.  Even 
while  we  gaze,  the  Abyss  and  the  City,  the  terror 
and  the  joy,  seem  drawing  nearer  and  nearer, 
showing  plainer  and  plainer. 


THE    TWO   GOALS.  315 

I  know  not  how  you  may  feel,  fellow-traveler  in 
this  involuntary  journey  ;  but  I,  for  one,  am  anx- 
ious, not  only  to  escape  that  fiery  lake,  but  also  to 
know  that  I  shall  escape  it  —  am  anxious,  not  only 
to  reach  the  Celestial  City,  but  also  to  know  that 
I  shall  reach  it.  While  feeling  myself  swept  for- 
ward with  tornado  force,  I  want  also,  above  all 
things,  to  feel  that  the  end  of  this  rushing  career 
is  sure  to  be  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  God. 
What  right  have  worldly  things  to  the  first  place 
in  a  man's  heart,  or  on  his  lips,  when  he  is  cleaving 
the  air  like  an  arrow  toward  the  glories  or  the 
woes  of  eternity  !  It  is  pleasant  to  close  the  eyes 
in  soft  slumbers,  pleasant  to  snatch  perishable 
flowers  and  fruits  as  we  sweep  along,  pleasant  to 
look  upward  on  stars  and  around  on  landscapes, 
pleasant  to  reason  and  imagine  and  talk  about  the 
many  novel  and  curious  things  that  go  shooting 
by  :  but  of  what  account  ought  these  to  be  to  a 
man  who  sees  two  eternities  contending  for  him  in 
the  distance  !  That  bottomless  Gulf,  that  rejoic- 
ing Jerusalem  —  they  are  no  air  castles  built  by 
idle  fancies  ;  no  baseless  visions  seen  by  sleeping 
men  when  the  mind  has  cast  off  the  yoke  of  rea- 
son, and  destined  to  melt  away  with  the  dawn  ; 
no   inventions  of   schemers  anxious  for  a  name, 


3l6  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

and  careless  of  the  world's  repose.  They  are 
God's  own  facts.  Only  a  few  days'  journey  lies 
between  me  and  them.  Nothing  earthly  is  of 
moment  to  me  in  the  presence  of  such  circum- 
stances. My  first  care  shall  be  to  escape,  if  es- 
cape I  may,  destruction  ;  and  to  know  that  I  am 
escaping  it  —  to  gain,  if  gain  I  may,  salvation 
within  thy  gates  of  pearl,  O  Zion  ;  and  to  know 
that  I  am  gaining  it :  so  that,  while  every  fibre  is 
aching  at  the  dizzy  speed  with  which  the  future 
becomes  the  present  and  the  present  the  past,  I 
may  still  hear  the  rush  without  fear,  and  even 
count  joyfully  the  mile-stones  as  they  go  glancing 
by.  And  whom  does  not  such  a  purpose  suit  "i 
At  this  moment,  while  you  feel  on  your  face  the 
panting  of  the  hurrying  hours,  and  catch  a  new 
glimpse  of  the  angry  and  sunny  landscapes  to- 
ward one  or  the  other  of  which  you  are  so  help- 
lessly making  your  way,  should  not  your  heart 
say,  and  say  fervently,  God  grant  that  this  race  of 
mine  may  come  to  the  happier  ending,  and  take 
me  through  the  gates  into  the  jeweled  City,  in- 
stead of  over  the  precipice  into  the  red  Gulf ! 

God  has  already  granted  the  possibility  of  this. 
Though  yonder  pinnacles  glitter  gloriously  enough 
to  be  the  home  of  gods,  they  may  be  the  home  of 


THE    TWO    GOALS.  31/ 

men  —  may  be  yo2ir  home.  Do  we  not,  peering 
through  our  telescope,  see  human  forms  among 
the  city-throng  —  Moses  and  Elias,  who  came 
transfigured  thence  to  the  mount  of  transfigura- 
tion ;  Paul,  to  whom  departing  was  being  with 
Christ  ;  that  long  procession  of  the  men  of  faith, 
whom  Paul  celebrates  as  having  desired  a  better 
country,  that  is  a  heavenly,  wherefore  God  is  not 
ashamed  to  be  called  their  God,  for  He  hath  pre- 
pared for  them  a  city ;  the  apostles,  for  whom 
Jesus  prayed  that  they  might  be  with  Him  where 
He  is  and  behold  His  glory  ;  and,  lest  the  mean- 
est and  unworthiest  should  despair,  Lazarus  in 
Abraham's  bosom,  with  the  thief  who  heard  it  said 
to  him,  "  This  day  shall  thou  be  with  me  in  Para- 
dise." Little  children,  hoary  men,  princes,  states- 
men, shepherds,  publicans,  fishermen,  Jews,  Gen- 
tiles, freemen,  bondmen  —  so  men  called  them 
here  —  all  look  upon  us  from  over  those  crystal 
battlements.  Not  a  class  in  the  world  but  has 
some  representatives  in  that  capacious  and  chari- 
table metropolis.  These  now  glorified  ones,  look- 
ing out  from  under  their  kingly  crowns,  were  once 
swept  along  through  time  and  this  world  as  help- 
lessly as  we.  They  bent  eye  on  the  horizon,  they 
peered  at  it  through  revealing  lenses,  they  hoped 


3l8  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

and  feared  at  the  great  things  they  saw,  just  as 
we  have  been  doing.  And  now  they  are  safe, 
happy,  blessed.  Surely,  then,  there  is  a  chance 
for  us.  The  City  is  large  —  there  is  room.  The 
citizens  are  loving  —  we  shall  be  welcome.  The 
method  of  entry  which  answered  for  publicans 
and  sinners  —  why  should  it  not  answer  for  you 
and  me  't 

But  something  more  than  a  mere  entry  is  possi- 
ble. We  can  have  an  abundant  entrance.  One 
who  had  a  clearer  vision  of  yonder  horizon  than 
most,  was  once  looking  toward  the  City  with  all  his 
might,  when  he  saw  two  persons  approaching  it. 
First  Christian  passes  the  river.  As  he  reaches 
the  other  side  two  angels  meet  him,  and  conduct 
him  upward  to  the  gate,  where  a  shining  company 
receive  and  joyfully  escort  him  within.  Next 
passes  Christiana.  "  And,  behold,  all  the  banks 
beyond  the  river  are  full  of  horses  and  chariots 
sent  down  from  above  to  accompany  her.  And 
glorious  it  is  to  see  how  the  upper  region  is  filled 
with  horses  and  chariots,  with  trumpeters  and 
pipers,  with  singers  and  players  on  stringed  in- 
struments as  she  goes  up  and  enters  at  the  beau- 
tiful gate."  So  saw  Bunyan,  and  so  we  may  see 
for  ourselves.     For  now  that  I  hold  up  the  Bible 


THE    TWO    GOALS.  319 

to  my  eye,  I  find  that  it  commands  the  approach 
to  the  City.  I  see  persons  entering.  I  see  a  dif- 
ference in  the  manner  of  entering.  To  some  the 
gate  is  opened  just  widely  enough  for  their  admit- 
tance :  while  to  others  it  is  flung  back  as  if  for 
the  march  of  a  conqueror.  Some,  a  few  Shining 
Ones  come  forth  to  welcome :  others  are  flocked 
around  by  whole  greeting  armies  of  celestials. 
Some  almost  reach  the  gate  before  any  escort 
appears  :  others  find  the  glittering  files  of  chariots 
and  horsemen  stretching  away  to  the  River,  cov- 
ering all  its  banks  —  nay,  hovering  quite  across 
the  dark  waters  and  making  them  glow  with  their 
own  mirrored  beauty,  like  the  very  River  of  Life. 
For  some  a  few  silver  trumpets  sound  :  for  others 
the  whole  welkin  seems  ringing  with  the  joy  of 
innumerable  minstrels.  Our  glass  shows  us  all 
this,  and  more.  It  has  the  wonderful  property  of 
showing  us,  not  only  the  fact,  but  the  reason  of  it 
—  not  only  the  discrimination  made  in  the  recep- 
tion of  different  persons,  but  the  cause  of  the  dis- 
crimination. "  If  ye  do  these  things  ye  shall 
never  fall,  for  so  an  entrance  shall  be  ministered 
to  you  abundantly."  The  cause  is  a  difference 
in  their  way  of  living  in  this  world.  Here  lies  the 
secret  of  the  City  almost  emptying  itself  of  its  in- 


320  rARISH  CIIRrSTIAA'ITY. 

habitants  and  its  music  to  do  honor  to  some  men. 
And  it  is  a  secret  for  our  use.  The  same  style  of 
Hving  that  gives  the  abundant  entrance  to  them 
will  doubtless  give  it  to  us.  We  can  enter  ;  and, 
if  we  choose,  we  can  enter  like  princes  coming 
home  from  conquest  —  Heaven's  choicest  banners 
streaming  over  us,  Heaven's  choicest  songs  rung 
out,  Heaven's  brightest  armies  attending,  Heav- 
en's widest  gate  thrown  widely  open. 

Since  we  have  been  conferring  on  this  matter 
our  steps  have  not  been  lingering.  Just  as 
fiercely  as  ever  has  our  race  toward  eternity  been 
kept  up.  The  Gulf  and  the  City  are  nearer  than 
they  were  an  hour  ago.  As  we  have  sped  flash- 
ing through  moment  after  moment,  never  to  be 
touched  again,  both  the  wonders  of  the  horizon 
have  been  becoming  more  distinct.  It  will  not 
take  many  days  of  such  tornado  journeying  as 
ours  to  bring  us  to  the  one  or  the  other.  And 
then  the  appearance  of  great  distance  is  often 
deceptive.  This  atmosphere  through  which  we 
view  things  has  been  known  to  practice  many 
great  impositions  on  the  sight.  Persons  have 
seemed  to  themselves  leagues  on  leagues  away 
from  eternity — so  their  eyes  seemed  to  tell  them 
—  while  really  it  was  not  a  stone's  cast  from  them, 


THE    TWO   GOALS.  32 1 

and,  one  indivisible  moment  passed,  they  had 
reached  it.  Under  these  circumstances,  would  it 
not  be  well  for  you  to  set  about,  without  any  fur- 
ther delay,  impressing  the  right  direction  on  the 
unceasing  rush  of  your  steps,  by  the  one  way  pro- 
vided, so  as  to  make  sure  an  abundant  entrance 
into  the  everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and 
Savior  Jesus  Christ  ? 
21 


XXI. 
WHITHER    BOUND? 


XXI. 
WHITHER   BOUND? 

A  SHIP  on  the  ocean  is  sometimes  hailed  with 
the  inquiry,  Whither  Bound?  Immediately 
the  strong  answer  goes  from  the  trumpet,  To  New 
York,  To  London,  To  Calcutta  —  as  the  case  may 
be.  The  captain  means  that  this  is  the  port 
which  he  wants  to  reach,  the  port  he  proposes  to 
reach,  and,  by  implication,  the  port  which  his  gen- 
eral mode  and  tack  of  sailing  are,  in  his  view, 
suited  to  reach. 

I  have  thought  that  the  question  which  one 
ship  calls  to  another  would  be  a  most  proper  ques- 
tion for  me  to  call  to  you.  We  have  happened 
near  each  other  on  the  open  sea  of  life.  Sailing, 
sailing,  we  both  are,  with  might  and  main  ;  every 
sail  filled  and  the  waters  breaking  in  foam  about 
our  prows.  Neither  can  stop  nor  slacken :  but 
we  may  exchange  over  the  waters,  as  we  go  stead- 
ily on,  the  friendly  inquiry,  Whither  Bound?  I 
will  endeavor  to  take  the  question  as  well  as  to 
give  it  :  but  suffer  me  just  now  to  call  it  out  to 


326  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

yon,  so  loudly  and  distinctly  that  it  can  be  heard 
above  the  din  of  life's  winds  and  waves  and  rat- 
tling cordage.  WHITHER  BOUND?  Where 
do  you  want  to  go,  where  do  you  propose  going, 
and  where,  in  your  view,  will  your  present  course 
naturally  take  you  ? 

Two  thirds  of  this  question  you  can  answer  sat- 
isfactorily and  without  hesitation.  You  can  tell 
what  you  want  your  port  of  destination  to  be,  and 
you  can  also  tell  what  you  mean  to  have  it  be, 
some  day.  Your  wish  is  to  make  at  last  a  heav- 
enly shore,  and  to  float  eternally  in  the  sheltered 
haven  of  everlasting  blessedness.  Is  it  not  so } 
Do  you  not  even  go  so  far  as  to  have  some  sort  of 
purpose,  more  or  less  clear,  of  finally  making  your 
way  into  Heaven  }  Perhaps  this  destination  is 
already  the  one  great  object  of  your  life.  I  may 
at  least  be  sure  of  this,  that  you  mean,  at  some 
indefinite  time,  to  take  advantage  of  some  favor- 
able breeze,  and  to  allow  yourself  to  be  wafted 
duly  into  the  celestial  haven.  How  could  you 
live  without  some  such  lurking  intention  .?  If  you 
believe  that  there  are  only  two  ports  possible  to 
soul-ships  (and  I  am  not  willing  to  allow  that  you 
who  have  so  plain  a  Bible  as  ours  are  without  such 
a  belief),  how  can  you,  a  rational  being,  rest  a  mo- 


WHirilER   BOUND?  327 

ment  without  intending,  sooner  or  later,  to  crowd 
on  all  canvas,  if  necessary,  and  bear  away  from 
eternal  ruin  to  eternal  salvation  !  You  cannot. 
I  know  it  by  knowing  that  it  is  a  human  ship  I 
am  hailing. 

Whither  Bound  f  Two  parts  of  this  question 
you  can  answer  promptly  and  satisfactorily.  Per- 
haps you  can  answer  the  third  part  as  well.  To 
which  of  the  two  great  ports  which  will  at  last 
gather  into  their  capacious  bosoms  all  that  sails 
on  life's  main,  is  your  present  course  taking  you  .-' 
Let  us  see  what  answer  you  can  give  to  this. 
This  is  really  the  only  solid  part  of  the  hail.  The 
other  parts  merely  ask  whether  you  are  a  man  : 
this  part  asks  whether  you  are  a  wise  man.  Which 
way  is  the  ship  now  heading  }  Whither  will  your 
present  course  carry  you,  if  kept  to  .•*  Oh,  if  with 
voice  as  decisive  and  stentorian  as  ever  pealed  out 
answer  through  a  sea-trumpet,  you  can  say  to  my 
Whither  Bound,  "1  am  bound  for  Heaven — my 
course  is  already  laid  for  that  port,  my  sails  are 
trimmed  for  that,  the  wheel  is  being  stirrly  held 
to  that  night  and  day  "  — if  you  can  understand- 
ingly  say  this,  you  need  envy  no  man  living.  You 
are  a  king.  You  are  a  mighty  beatitude.  I  see 
you  already  riding  at  anchor,  furled  and  bannered 


328  PAA'/SH  CHRTSTIANITY. 

and  salvoed,  within  the  celestial  Golden  Horn. 
What  is  left  to  be  desired  for  such  a  garlanded 
flag-ship  as  yours  ? 

But  it  may  be  that  you  cannot  give  that  happy 
answer.  Perhaps  it  is  perfectly  clear  to  you  that, 
instead  of  your  prow  pointing  Heavenward,  it  is 
your  stern  that  does  so.  To  the  Whither  Bound 
that  hails  you,  you  are  forced  to  answer  (though 
almost  under  your  breath),  "  I  am  bound  to  ruin  — 
I  know  I  am.  Though  I  wish  a  heavenly  destina- 
tion, and  in  fact  mean  to  seek  it  by  and  by  ;  still 
I  am  well  convinced  that,  as  yet,  my  course  is  not 
such  as  to  bring  me  to  that  point.  I  am  sailing 
away  from  it.  My  back  is  on  Heaven.  I  hope  it 
will  be  otherwise  some  day  ;  but  I  cannot  but 
know  that  to-day  my  direction  is  perdition." 
There  are  many  whose  sense  of  their  moral  bear- 
ings is  just  so  sharply  defined  and  gloomy  as  this. 
If  truth  compels  you  to  accept  it  as  yours,  you 
could  not  be  worse  off,  unless  the  port  of  your 
approaching  should  become  the  port  of  your  arriv- 
ing. The  next  bad  thing  to  complete  ruin  is  to 
be  on  the  way  to  it  —  beyond  all  reasonable  doubt, 
on  the  way  to  it.  You  are  to  be  pitied  by  every- 
body, most  of  all  by  yourself.  For,  methinks,  I 
already  see  you  riding  at  anchor,  furled,  bannered 


WHITHER   BOUND?  329 

with  black,  hailed  by  dirging  minute-guns,  within 
the  embrace  of  those  twin  fiery  promontories 
whose  names  are  endless  Sin  and  Sorrow. 

But  it  is  not  a  strange  case  if,  instead  of  being 
able  to  speak  with  confidence  of  your  religious  di- 
rection as  being  at  present  plainly  away  from 
Heaven  or  plainly  toward  it,  you  know  not  what  to 
answer  when  the  friendly  inquiry  Whither  Bound, 
reaches  you  across  the  water.  'Really,  you  can- 
not tell  where  your  present  course,  if  continued, 
would  bring  you.  Sometimes  you  think  your  lay 
of  the  wheel  will  enable  you  to  make  the  port  of 
Heaven  ;  but  then  again  you  have  serious  doubts. 
On  the  whole  you  do  not  know.'  The  ship,  in  a 
dangerous  sea  and  under  press  of  canvas,  is,  she 
knows  not  where  —  and  is  going,  she  knows  not 
whither.  Who  ever  heard  of  seaman  on  the  At- 
lantic caring  to  sail  long  in  this  manner .''  Does 
he  not  consider  that  his  "  wet  sheet  and  flowing 
sea "  may  in  an  hour  finish  his  sailing  forever  .-* 
He  must  forthwith  discover  his  whereabouts  and 
direction.  He  sets  to  poring  over  his  chart  and 
compass.  He  hurries  out  his  instruments  for  an 
observation.  He  hails  the  ship  that  chances  to 
come  near  him,  if  perhaps  he  can  get  some  friendly 
light  as  to  his  latitude  and  longitude  and  bearings 


330  PARISH  CHRISTfANlTY. 

Why  will  you  not  do  as  much  — you  who  are  out 
on  the  perilous  sea  of  probation  with  a  strong 
wind  and  rushing  prow,  and  yet  know  not  whether 
Heaven  is  before  you  or  behind  you,  far  or  near  ? 
If  you  are  willing  to  make  an  effort  to  solve  this 
problem  perhaps  you  may  be  helped  by  answering 
the  following  questions. 

What  port  are  you  trying  to  reach  ?  The  ques- 
tion is  not  in  respect  to  the  destination  you  wish, 
or  mean  at  last  to  seek.  Beyond  a  doubt,  you 
are  not  wanting  at  this  point.  But  the  question 
is,  Toward  which  of  the  two  great  ports  of  eter- 
nity are  your  present  leading  cares  and  efforts 
intelligently  put  forth  }  Of  course  you  are  not 
intelligently  trying  to  land  in  Death  and  Hell. 
But  are  you  intelligently  trying,  with  some  good 
degree  of  earnestness  and  perseverance,  to  land 
in  Life  and  Heaven  .■'  If  you  are,  you  may  hope 
that  you  are  on  the  way  to  Heaven.  You  are 
heading  in  the  right  direction,  and  in  due  season, 
if  you  keep  to  your  tack,  you  may  find  yourself 
entering  the  blessed  haven.  But  if  you  are 
doing  nothing  with  reference  to  entering  —  if  all 
your  present  pains  are  being  spent  on  your 
worldly  interests,  and  the  religious  are  left  to  shift 
for  themselves  as  best  they  may  until  some  indef- 


WHITHER  BOUND?  33 1 

inite  convenient  season  arrives  —  then  certainly 
you  are  not  on  the  way  to  Heaven.  Your  course, 
faithfully  kept  to,  will  bring  you  into  eternity  at 
a  far  different  point.  Will  the  ship  that,  amid 
winds  and  currents  from  all  points  of  the  com- 
pass, never  makes  persevering  effort  with  distinct 
reference  to  getting  to  London  —  will  she  ever 
'  get  there .-'  Are  there  any  underwriters  in  the 
country  who  would  insure  a  vessel  to  Calcutta  un- 
der the  condition  that  the  master  should  be  under 
no  obligation  to  lay  himself  out  to  reach  that 
port }  There  are  a  thousand  ways  to  fail,  and 
but  one  to  succeed.  All  ways  to  Heaven  but  one 
are  wrong.  Hell  lies  all  round  the  compass  ;  you 
can  reach  it  by  going  in  almost  any  direction. 
You  can  let  the  wheel  take  care  of  itself,  and  still 
make  sure  of  reaching  that  woeful  harbor.  But 
the  man  who  would  reach  Heaven  must  sail  on 
one  general  line  ;  and,  amid  the  darkness  and 
changeful  winds  and  currents  of  life,  he  will  never 
find  this,  and  keep  to  it,  without  some  degree  of 
earnest  and  persevering  effort  to  do  so. 

WJiat  chart  and  compass  do  yon  employ  ?  If 
you  go  by  a  chart  that  locates  Heaven  where  it  is 
not  (and  there  are  such  charts  in  use  in  the  world) 
—  if  you  make  a  practice  of  consulting  a  needle 


332  PARISH  CIIRISTIANITY. 

that  says  south  is  north  (and  there  are  such  nee- 
dles), you  will  hardly  reach  Heaven.  That  port 
lies  in  a  certain  definite  direction  ;  and  alas  for 
the  man  who  takes  up  the  idea  that  it  lies  at  the 
opposite  point  of  the  compass,  and  sails  accord- 
ingly !  Heaven  will  not  shift  its  position  to  help 
his  mistake.  And  there  is  nothing  hard  in  this, 
because  you  have  a  perfect  and  self-demonstrat- 
ing compass  in  your  binnacle,  a  perfect  and  self- 
demonstrating  chart  in  your  cabin.  The  Bible  is 
a  guide  for  the  voyaging  soul.  It  maps  down  the 
port  of  Heaven  just  where  God  knows  it  really 
to  be  —  it  points  out  just  the  course  one  must 
take  to  reach  it  —  it  shows  all  the  rocks,  whirl- 
pools, and  other  causes  of  danger ;  in  a  word,  it 
is  the  completest  manual  of  sailing  directions  that 
ever  government  prepared  for  its  mariners.  If, 
now,  you  are  honestly  studying  and  sailing  by  this, 
every  day,  you  cannot  do  better,  you  need  not  do 
better.  Go  on  as  you  are  going.  God  speed 
you  !  for  you  are  on  the  right  track.  Your  prow 
is  pushing  toward  the  true  mark,  and  all  the  prog- 
ress you  make  is  so  much  progress  toward  Heav- 
en. But,  if  you  are  consciously  not  studying  and 
sailing  by  this  chart,  if  the  Bible  is  of  no  partic- 
ular account  to  you  in  the  ordering  of  your  daily 


WHITHER  BOUND?  333 

course,  then  there  is  no  such  comfort  for  you. 
Let  deceiving  Satan  tell  you  what  he  will,  you 
surely  are  on  the  way  to  Hell.  Sail  on  as  usual 
and  nothing  can  save  you.  Follow  your  prow, 
and  before  long  you  will  find  your  voyage  fin- 
ished —  and  your  happiness  also. 

Are  you  taking  daily  celestial  observations  ? 
Could  you  be  assured  that  a  ship  out  on  the  ocean 
has  not  had  a  sextant  turned  on  sun,  moon,  or 
star  for  many  days,  you  would  be  sure  she  must 
be  somewhat  out  of  her  course.  There  is  not 
one  chance  in  a  thousand  that,  what  with  veering- 
winds  and  currents  and  an  unsteady  rudder,  she 
has  not  come  to  head  in  a  wrong  direction. 
Therefore  it  is  a  law  of  sea-life  that  every  day  the 
skipper  must  look  up  to  the  far  sky,  and  with  his 
instrument  commune  with  the  shining  orbs  there, 
that  he  may  know  his  place  and  bearing.  Are 
you  doing  something  akin  to  this  }  Are  you  daily 
and  carefully  looking  up  for  guidance  to  the  far 
sky  .?  Do  you  know  by  personal  experience  what 
systematic  communion  with  the  heavens  is  }  In 
plainest  English,  do  you  know  how  to  pray —  not 
forms  and  words  merely,  but  devout  thoughts, 
wishes,  and  purposes  (imperfect  indeed  and  spot- 
ted with  many  sins,  but  still  honest  and  hearty), 


334  PAKISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

going  up  perseveringly  to  God  for  light  and  power 
to  order  life  wisely  and  religiously  and  unto  ever- 
lasting life?  If  you  know  nothing  of  this,  can 
any  one  dare  to  tell  you  that  you  are  sailing  to- 
ward Heaven  ?  My  friend,  you  are  standing  the 
other  way  —  all  your  wishes  to  the  contrary  not- 
withstanding. It  is  not  possible  that  you  can 
have  kept  your  direction  right,  if  you  once  had  it 
so,  amid  the  subtle  currents,  winds,  and  fluctua- 
tions of  temptation,  without  celestial  observations. 
But  let  us  hope  that  you  will  not  long  be  without 
them,  but  that  you  will  be  seen  perseveringly 
looking  upward  for  Divine  keeping  and  direction  ; 
so  that,  at  last,  the  dangerous  navigation  over,  you 
may  disembark  triumphantly  into  the  everlasting 
kingdom.  That  would  be  one  of  the  best  of 
signs.  It  would  show  that,  if  not  already  head- 
ing toward  Heaven,  the  ship  will  soon  be  doing 
so.  She  is  gradually  changing  her  bearings,  she 
is  rounding  to  ;  and  he  who  sees  those  skyey 
communings  going  carefully  forward  a  little  longer, 
will  see  at  last  the  brave  vessel  settling  to  her 
true  course  and  standing  across  the  waters  dead 
in  the  eye  of  the  sun-rising. 

Have  yoii  made  any  great  change  in  yonr  coui'se, 
zvithin  your  recollection  ?      Send    your    thought 


WHITHER   BOUND!  335 

backward,  and  see  if  you  can  find  a  time  when 
you  were  moving  in  a  direction  directly  the  oppo- 
site of  the  present.  Ask  whether  there  has  ever 
been  a  complete  reversal  of  your  moral  feelings 
and  plans  of  life.  The  first  course  of  all  men  is 
away  from  Heaven.  If  you  are  now  sailing  to- 
ward it,  it  is  because  the  ship  has  been  put  about 
at  some  time.  Do  you  remember  any  time  when 
your  heart  misgave  you,  and  the  sails  for  a  while 
hung  in  flapping  uncertainty  against  the  masts 
as  you  stopped  headway ;  and  at  last  you  swung 
round,  round,  point  after  point  of  azimuth,  full  six- 
teen of  them,  and  then  sped  on  in  a  course  which 
has  never  substantially  altered  up  to  the  present } 
If  you  know  no  such  time,  but  are  going  in  the 
same  direction  you  have  been  going  in  from  the 
first  —  if  your  moral  views,  feelings,  and  plans  of 
life  are  the  same  they  always  have  been,  —  do  not 
imagine  that  your  face  is  toward  Heaven.  Your 
distance  from  that  port  is  increasing  daily.  But 
as  soon  as  a  change,  a  great  change,  a  change 
amounting  to  a  reversal  of  your  natural  feelings 
and  plans  and  doings  in  moral  and  religious 
things,  takes  place,  then  a  more  cheerful  view  can 
be  taken  of  your  case.  You  have  been  regener- 
ated.    You  have  new  affections  and  a  new  object 


336  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

of  life.  Old  things  have  passed  away  :  behold  all 
things  have  become  new.  Your  great  loves  and 
fears  and  hopes  bear  on  different  objects.  Gained 
is  that  new  birth  without  which  no  man  can  see 
the  kingdom  of  God.  And  to  the  question, 
Whither  bound  ?  which  your  fellow-voyager  puts 
to  you,  you  can  give  the  fullest  sort  of  answer, 
—  and  the  most  satisfactory  —  "I  am  bound  to 
Heaven  ;  it  is  the  port  I  zva>it  to  reach  ;  it  is  the 
one  I  propose  reaching  ;  and,  above  all,  it  is  the 
one  toward  which  my  prow  and  movement  are 
this  moment  directed." 

What  freigJitage  do  yon  carry  ?  Could  you, 
just  out  of  the  harbor  of  New  York,  board  a  num- 
ber of  ships  and  insjDect  their  cargoes,  you  would 
be  able,  in  many  cases,  to  form  a  just  idea  of 
their  destinations  without  asking  any  questions 
or  having  any  regard  to  the  direction  of  the  sail- 
ing. One  ship  you  find  loaded  with  wheat. 
"  Bound  for  England,"  you  say.  Another  you 
find  loaded  with  ice.  "  Bound  to  the  tropics," 
you  say.  Still  another  you  find  loaded  with  arms. 
You  say,  "  Bound  for  South  America."  And  you 
can  tell  whither  a  voyaging  soul  is  bound  by  in- 
specting its  true  bill  of  lading.  What  principles, 
plans,  and  feelings  are  stored  away  within  it  .-'     Is 


WHITHER   BOUND?  337 

it  freighted  with  sound  doctrines,  and  Christian 
feelings,  and  purposes  to  match  ;  love  to  God  and 
man,  great  leading  plans  of  life  all  shaped  by  be- 
nevolence and  conscience  ?  What  further  light 
is  needed  ?  The  ship  is  bound  to  Heaven,  of 
course.  That  is  the  port  of  eternity  where  such 
things  are  in  great  demand  —  in  fact,  reckoned 
of  unspeakable  value  —  and  it  is  the  only  port 
where  they  are  in  any  demand  at  all.  But  sup- 
pose you  find  the  hold  freighted  with  unbelief, 
and  unscriptural  views  of  God  and  sin  and  man's 
natural  relation  to  God ;  with  selfishness,  and 
pride,  and  revenge,  and  supreme  love  of  the 
world,  and  general  aversion  to  the  government 
of  God  ;  suppose  you  find  the  ship  heavy  with 
such  articles  as  these.  Do  you  need  to  ask  the 
master  toward  what  port  he  is  sailing  }  I  do  not. 
He  is  sailing  toward  Hell,  of  course.  That  is  the 
natural  destination  of  all  such  articles  as  he  car- 
ries. They  are  not  used  nor  allowed  anywhere 
else  in  the  eternal  world.  One  can  unlade  any 
amount  of  these  bitter  wares  on  the  fiery  wharves 
of  Penalty  and  Destruction  ;  but  not  one  shred 
of  them  can  be  disembarked  into  the  golden 
streets  of  Eternal  Blessedness.  What  freightage 
22 


338  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

do  you  carry  ?     Look  honestly  and  carefully,  and 
then  infer  whither  you  are  bound. 

Lastly,  as  you  advance  on  your  present  co7irse, 
how  vary  the  aspects  and  circumstances  of  your 
condition?  As  Columbus  made  his  way  along  I 
toward  the  New  World  he  noticed  that  the  air 
gradually  assumed  a  different  tone,  the  water  a 
different  color.  Flocks  of  strange  birds  became 
more  and  more  numerous,  new  weeds  floated  in 
increasing  abundance  around  ;  then  was  picked 
up  a  reed  newly  cut,  a  thorn  with  red  fruit  upon 
it,  a  staff  curiously  wrought  and  adorned  ;  at  last, 
a  light  was  seen  glancing  from  place  to  place. 
The  signs  of  the  New  World  thickened  upon  him 
as  he  sailed  on,  as  the  signs  of  the  Old  World  had 
thinned  and  disappeared  as  he  sailed  away  from 
it.  So,  if  you  are  sailing  toward  Heaven,  you  can 
see  the  natural  signs  of  that  sunset  land  gradually 
increasing  about  your  path.  The  air  is  growing 
sweeter  and  purer,  the  waters  brighter  and 
clearer,  and  stray  products  of  the  luxuriant  land 
before  you  float  out  to  you  more  and  more. 
That  is  to  say,  your  moral  nature  finds  it  easier 
to  breathe  and  flourish  the  further  you  go  ;  the 
ways  of  God  toward  yourself  and  others  seem 
more  and  more  true  and  wise  and  good  and  de- 


WHITHER  BOUND?  339 

serving  of  trust ;  your  knowledge  of  divine  things, 
and  conscientiousness,  and  readiness  at  under- 
standing God's  Word  and  Ways  increases  ;  on 
the  whole,  perhaps,  your  serenity  and  hope  and 
enjoyment,  and  conscious  help  of  the  Holy  Spirit, 
are  ever  gaining.  If  you  have  been  some  time  on 
the  way  to  Heaven  some  such  improvement  as 
this  ought  to  be  noticeable  :  such  predictions  of 
the  haven  you  are  approaching  ought  to  float  out 
to  meet  you,  and  sensibly  thicken  on  you  as  you 
advance.  Do  they  .-•  Or  does  it  seem  to  you 
that  the  longer  you  live  the  darker  seems  the 
Bible,  the  harder  the  Providence  of  God,  the 
more  stupid  your  conscience,  the  more  scanty 
your  allowance  of  hope  and  help  .-•  Then  look  out 
for  the  worst.  You  have  a  haven  ahead,  but  it 
is  not  such  as  you  will  care  to  reach,  or  any  true 
friend  of  yours  care  to  have  you  reach.  Sail  on, 
and  you  will  reach  the  end  of  your  sailing  and  of 
your  happiness  at  the  same  time.  A  Whither 
bound  to  you  will  have  to  bring  back  the  most 
formidable  answer  that  seaman  ever  sent  across 
the  water.  You  must  reverse  the  wheel.  You 
must  put  completely  about,  or  shortly  you  will  find 
yourself  disembarking  into  a  desolate  and  undone 
eternity. 


XXII. 
A    PRESSING    CALL. 


XXII. 

A  PRESSING  CALL. 

\T  WHATSOEVER  thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do 
it    with    thy   might.      Beyond    a    doubt, 
among  the  many  things  we  find  to  do  is  the  work 
we  are  accustomed  to  call  religion. 

Consider  a  moment.  Religion  consists  in  that 
influential  faith  in  Christ  which  holds  an  obedient 
and  holy  life  wrapped  up  in  it,  as  a  seed  holds  the 
great  tree  which  will,  in  time,  grow  out  of  it.  It 
implies  reconciliation  with  God,  trust  in  Christ, 
repentance,  and  a  gradually  rising  structure  of 
holy  habits,  within  and  without,  on  this  founda- 
tion. Now,  we  do  not  naturally  have  any  of  these 
things.  But  we  must  have  them  all.  Little  com- 
fort and  usefulness,  no  safety  and  no  Heaven, 
without  them.  And,  if  we  ask  how  these  necessa- 
ries are  to  be  gained.  Scripture  points  upward  to 
God  for  one  part  of  its  answer,  and  downward  to 
our  own  hands  for  the  other  part.  We  have  to 
work  out  our  religion.  We  are  to  seek  for  it ;  dig 
for  it  as  for  hid  treasure  ;  knock  for  it  —  we  our- 


344  rARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

selves  are  to  repent  and  believe  ;  are  to  strive  to 
enter  at  the  strait  gate  ;  are  to  fight  for  goodness 
as  in  a  battle  and  run  for  it  as  in  a  race.  And 
this,  although  it  is  true  that  of  ourselves  we  can 
do  nothing,  that  salvation  is  not  of  works  but  of 
grace,  and  that  all  forms  of  goodness  are  fruits  of 
the  Spirit  working  in  man  to  will  and  do  of  His 
good  pleasure.  Nor  God,  nor  Bible,  nor  ministry, 
nor  any  agency  whatever,  helps  a  man  to  religion 
save  in  connection  with  his  own  efforts.  The 
treasure  can  never  be  had  as  the  result  of  a  sleep- 
ing partnership  between  him  and  the  means  of 
grace.  It  is  impossible  to  import  religion  into  a 
passive  being  as  goods  are  brought  into  a  ware- 
house. 

A  second  point.  The  religion  which  sinners 
have  to  do  they  should  do  with  their  might.  They 
should  put  great  energy  into  the  work.  This 
will  appear  if  we  weigh  well,  and  put  together,  the 
following  considerations. 

Religion  is  goodness,  usefulness,  happiness, 
safety,  and  at  last  Heaven,  The  absence  of  it  is 
depravity,  hurtfulness,  wretchedness,  peril,  and  at 
last  Hell.  Tell  me  —  what  shall  it  profit  a  man 
if  he  gain  the.  whole  world  and  lose  his  soul  .-• 
Tell  me — what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for 


A   PJiESSLVG   CALL.  345 

his  soul  ?  This  thing  of  incomputable  grandeur 
and  values  is  staked  on  the  possession  of  religion. 
It  will  be  beautified  and  blessed,  or  deformed  and 
cursed,  for  two  worlds,  according  as  this  religion 
is  gained  or  neglected.  We  are  in  the  habit  of 
speaking  of  very  many  things  as  important,  as 
highly  important :  but  how  pitifully  small,  how 
microscopic,  is  every  other  interest  in  presence  of 
the  religious !  Let  every  man  of  weighing  judg- 
ment ;  every  man  who  on  putting  his  soul  in  one 
scale  of  a  balance  finds  that  all  created  good 
besides,  when  placed  in  the  opposite  scale,  cannot 
make  it  rise  by  the  breadth  of  a  hair,  or  even  sen- 
sibly lessen  its  tremendous  gravitation  ^ —  let  every 
such  man  echo  my  words  when  I  say  that  it  is 
impossible  to  overestimate  the  importance  of  re- 
ligion. 

Great  blessings  are  apt  to  be  hard  of  acquisi- 
tion. The  great  blessing,  religion,  is  not  gotten 
by  the  lifting  of  a  finger.  Religious  people  know 
this  from  experience,  that  great  teacher  —  also 
from  revelation,  that  greater  teacher  still.  What 
man  ever  repented  and  believed,  changed  the 
ground  of  his  character,  overcame  a  whole  system 
of  inveterate  evil  habits  fending  off  from  religion 
like   so    many  lions    and    archers  —  all    in    the 


346  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

manner  of  water  flowing  clown  hill,  or  of  smoke 
climbing  a  clear  and  frosty  sky  ?  Behold  the 
strait  gate  that  must  be  entered  by  striving !  Be- 
hold the  foretold  cross  which  men  must  take  up 
in  order  to  be  Jesus'  disciples  !  All  helps  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding  —  and  they  are  not  few 
nor  small  —  the  kingdom  of  heaven  in  every  in- 
stance has  to  "  suffer  violence  and  be  taken  by 
force."  He  who  eats  the  bread  of  life  at  all  will 
eat  it  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow.  The  men  who 
from  the  common  harvest  field  reap  and  gather 
into  barns,  do  it  with  swaying  and  taxed  arms 
that  soon  become  sore  and  wearied  :  do  not  ex- 
pect to  reap  piety  and  Heaven  with  anything  less. 
The  chasm  between  God  and  man  has  been 
bridged  ;  but  the  bridge  is  a  narrow  footpath  ; 
and  even  as  the  brute  hangs  back  and  needs  to  be 
goaded  and  dragged  along  the  sounding  boards 
that  span  the  abyss,  so  our  perverse  and  willful 
natures  hang  back  from  crossing  to  God  and  re- 
ligion, and  need  to  be  driven  and  dragged  with 
laborious  energy.  Let  the  sinner  consider  how 
much  moral  force  has  already  been  put  forth  on 
him  —  in  vain. 

And  let  him  also  consider  that  the  trouble  be- 
tween God  and  himself  naturally  increases  every 


A    PRESSING   CALL.  347 

day.  They  are  far  asunder  now  —  to-morrow  they 
will  be  further  apart.  The  heart  will  be  a  degree 
harder,  and  will  give  itself  to  sinful  ways  with  a 
degree  more  of  resolution.  A  day  more  of  guilt 
will  lie  at  the  door,  and  a  day  more  of  the  practice 
of  sin  will  have  made  the  habit  worse.  So  the 
trouble  between  God  and  the  soul  moves  ever  to- 
ward the  point  where  it  will  be  beyond  the  reach 
of  any  peacemaker.  Is  it  not  harder  to  pull  up  a 
tree  the  longer  it  has  been  planted  .?  And  can 
you  expect  that  the  habit  of  disobedience  to  God 
will  prove  an  exception  to  the  general  law  ?  No 
doubt  you  feel  it  hard  to-day  to  change  the  course 
you  have  been  on  from  childhood.  When  you 
look  into  your  present  heart  you  find  quite  enough 
reluctance  to  immediate  action  in  favor  of  religion. 
Should  it  not  come  home  to  you  that  the  lapse  of 
time  is  far  from  doing  anything  to  improve  your 
circumstances .?  Should  you  not  painfully  feel 
that  the  hill  you  have  to  climb  is  becoming  steeper 
every  moment .-' 

We  have  only  this  one  life  in  which  to  achieve 
religion.  Our  lives  are  indeed  two  ;  but  of  these 
two  only  the  present  can  be  used  for  this  work. 
If  we  do  not  manage  to  get  peace  with  God,  and 
a  new  character,  before  we  die  we  shall   get    it 


348  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

never.  Eternity  is  long  ;  many  things  can  be 
done  in  it ;  but  among  these  many  things  never 
expect  to  find  that  new  birth  without  which  no 
man  can  see  the  kingdom  of  God.  A  few  persons, 
a  mere  handful  out  of  the  nations  and  generations 
that  receive  the  Bible,  dream  that  there  is  work 
and  device  of  turning  to  God  in  the  grave  whither 
we  go  ;  but  it  is  only  a  dream.  The  next  life 
holds  a  fulcrum  in  aid  of  religion,  but  the  lever 
which  works  on  that  fulcrum  lies  entirely  within 
this  world.  No  ghostly  hand  can  stretch  across 
the  grave  to  it.  No  fleshly  hand  from  this  side 
can,  with  huge  effort,  cast  it  over  into  the  spirit 
land  in  aid  of  some  friend  who  neglected  the  op- 
portunities of  the  present  life.  Had  we  hundreds 
of  lives  such  as  the  Hindu  supposes,  or  even  two, 
the  exhortation  to  do  with  our  might  what  our 
hands  find  to  do  would  come  to  us  with  much  less 
force  than  it  does  now  —  with  our  single  life  into 
which  must  be  crowded  the  whole  difficult  and 
most  important  work  of  achieving  religion. 

A  single  life  and  that  a  very  short  one  !  Our 
next  life  has  length  enough  to  content  the  greed- 
iest at  living  :  but  this  —  a  grasshopper  can  clear 
it  at  a  leap.  What  a  speck  by  the  side  of  angel 
lives,  or  the  lives  of  the  earlier  patriarchs.     It  is  a 


A   PRESSIA^G   CALL.  349 

breath  that  whistles  and  is  gone.  It  is  a  ray  that 
smites  the  mirror  and,  or  ever  you  are  aware,  has 
shot  off  to  a  distant  world.  I  speak  in  this  man- 
ner because  it  is  the  Biblical  way  of  speaking.  We 
cannot  well  get  beyond  such  a  statement  as  this. 
Our  age  is  as  nothing  before  Thee.  Such  a  way 
of  speaking  is  scarcely  intelligible  to  a  child  :  but 
as  we  grow  older  it  has  less  and  less  of  an  air  of 
solemn  extravagance  ;  and  it  is  easy  to  see  that 
ten  thousand  years  hence  we  may  look  back  on 
our  lives  in  this  world  as  we  now  look  on  so  many 
atoms  of  dust.  Not  altogether  because  we  shall 
then  measure  time  by  the  clock  of  eternity,  but 
because  we  shall  then  better  take  in  the  prodigious 
sweep  of  human  nature  in  its  aspirations,  needs, 
capacities,  and  destinies.  Let  us  get  a  glimpse  of 
this  now  ;  and  say  that  our  days  are  a  hand  breadth 
in  which  the  great  work  we  have  to  do  must  be 
done  with  our  might.  The  sun  of  our  scant  day 
is  hasting  over  the  arch.  Soon,  very  soon,  it  will 
dip  beneath  the  West.  What  thou  doest,  do 
quickly. 

But  we  are  far  from  having  the  whole  of  even 
this  one  short  life  in  which  to  work  out  our  relig- 
ion. Our  span  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  — 
"  this  narrow  neck  of  land  twixt  two  unbounded 


350  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

seas  "  —  is  largely  subtracted  from,  as  a  field  of 
religious  labor,  in  many  ways.  First,  infancy  cuts 
off  a  part.  A  third  of  all  the  remainder  has  to  be 
spent  in  sleep.  Of  our  waking  time  by  far  the 
larger  part,  in  the  case  of  most  men,  must  be 
spent  in  worldly  cares  and  labors.  A  still  further 
part  is  sacrificed  in  that  languor  and  weariness  of 
both  body  and  mind  which  flow  from  these 
worldly  efforts,  and  during  which  our  power  of 
religious  feeling,  thinking,  and  doing  is  very  con- 
siderably lessened.  And  then,  old  age  closes  the 
scene  with  another  infancy,  another  period  of  lan- 
guor and  weariness,  in  which  but  a  fraction  of  our 
faculty  as  doers  remains  to  us.  So  that,  in  point 
of  fact,  but  a  small  part  of  even  this  one  brief  life  of 
ours  can  be  fully  turned  to  account  for  that  con- 
version-work which  our  hands  find  to  do.  Our 
small  patrimony  of  opportunity  is  cut  down  on  all 
sides  by  various  encroachments  until  hardly  a 
tenth  of  its  original  extent  is  left  us.  Depredator 
after  depredator  quietly  pushes  inward  the  fence- 
lines  until  at  last  they  almost  touch  each  other. 
Had  we  a  hundred  probationary  lives,  had  we  one 
such  life  as  Methuselah's,  had  we  even  the  whole 
of  our  scant  three-score  and  ten  years,  there  would 
be  far  less  need  than  there  now  is  for  the  call  to  do 


A   PRESSING   CALL.  351 

with  our  might  what  our  hands  find  to  do  :  for 
now  it  turns  out  that  "  the  point  of  time,  the  mo- 
ment's space,  which  sends  us  to  yon  heavenly- 
place  or  shuts  us  up  in  hell,"  is  cut  down  to  a 
pitiful  remnant  that  just  twinkles  and  is  gone. 
Yet  it  has  voice  enough  to  cry  like  a  giant  in 
our  ears,  "  Work  out  your  salvation  with  fear 
arid  treviblingr 

But  this  is  not  all.  Even  that  slender  remain- 
der of  life  which  is  available  for  achieving  religion 
after  the  many  subtractions  made  from  it  by  our 
circumstances  in  this  world  —  even  this  pitiful 
remnant  is  very  imcertain.  It  is  so  much  quicksil- 
ver in  our  hands.  The  three-score  and  ten  years 
are  not  sure  to  us  —  no,  not  a  day,  nor  an  hour,  is 
sure.  Is  your  sun  at  meridian,  and  are  you  ex- 
pecting that  it  will  be  just  as  long  in  descending 
the  arch  as  it  has  been  in  ascending }  Why,  sir, 
that  sun  of  yours  which  has  hitherto  moved  so 
equally  over  the  sky,  may  at  any  moment  break 
up  its  sober  pace  and  shoot  through  the  whole  re- 
maining quadrant  in  an  hour.  Is  your  sun  just 
risen,  and  are  you  expecting  that  it  will  creep  up 
and  up  never  so  long,  and  then  creep  down  and 
down  never  so  long,  till  at  last  it  settles  behind 
the  west  some  fifty  or  eighty  years  hence  .-'     Be- 


352  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

ware  !  Count  on  nothing  of  the  kind.  It  would 
be  no  miracle,  but  a  very  common  event,  should 
your  orb,  fresh  in  morning  splendors,  suddenly 
pass  behind  a  cloudy  screen  and  hie  by  some  short 
by-path  to  its  grave  in  the  west  ;  and  all  within 
the  compass  of  a  few  minutes  even.  Are  you 
strong  and  healthy,  and  do  people  speak  of  you  as 
having  a  constitution  of  iron  ?  No  matter.  Men 
as  well  constitutioned  and  vigorous  as  you  are 
every  day  falling  like  grass  before  the  mower. 
Your  life  is  almost  as  precarious  as  that  of  yon 
weak  and  delicate  person  whom  every  east  wind 
sets  a  trembling.  Nor  is  this  the  only  sort  of 
uncertainty  that  calls  loudly  for  your  attention. 
Your  working  at  religion  cannot  avail  save  with 
the  co-working  of  another.  Divine  hands  must 
grasp  the  lever  side  by  side  with  yours.  A  Holy 
Ghost  must  toil  at  your  sinews,  and  in  them,  as 
well  as  with  them.  But  this  great  Helper  can- 
not be  counted  on.  To-day  may  see  Him  with 
us  ;  and  to-morrow  may  see  Him  a  grieved  being, 
Heaven's  distance  away,  gone  never  to  return. 
He  will  not  pledge  Himself  to  a  single  moment 
beyond  the  present.  We  have  fair  warning  from 
Him  not  to  be  surprised  if,  neglecting  our  souls, 
we  wake  some  morning  to  find  our  hearts  turned 


A   PRESSING  CALL.  353 

to  Stone — to  unalterable  stone,  because  He,  the 
great  heart-softener,  has  taken  last  leave  of  us. 
Thus  it  happens  that  the  small  fraction  of  our 
lives  we  have  for  securing  our  salvation  is  ham- 
pered with  a  double  uncertainty  —  the  uncertainty 
that  it  will  last,  and  the  uncertainty  that  we  can 
use  it  if  it  does.  Were  we  sure  of  our  fraction, 
and  also  sure  of  a  Holy  Spirit  through  the  whole 
of  it,  then  there  would  be  a  less  need  of  the  loud 
Scripture-call  to  us  to  do  with  our  might  the  relig- 
ion we  find  to  do.  As  it  is,  not  knowing  what  a 
day  may  bring  forth,  whether  a  departure  of  God 
or  of  life  or  of  both  ;  as  it  is,  with  our  pitiful  rem- 
nant tottering  and  slipping  in  the  mire  of  these 
two  great  uncertainties,  we  are  bound  to  cry  to 
our  droning  souls,  Up,  and  be  doing  tvith  all  your 
viigJit,  at  turning  to  God  ! 

The  case  is  before  you.  It  is  proven  and  car- 
ried in  the  court  of  your  own  judgment  in  favor 
of  swift  and  mighty  effort  at  repenting  and  being 
reconciled  unto  God.  No  one  can  choose  but  ac- 
knowledge that  the  argument  is  of  the  clearest, 
and  perfectly  conclusive ;  and  that,  if  you  do  not 
at  once  begin  to  work  your  faculties  and  the  means 
of  grace  for  securing  religion  and  salvation  with 
keen  and  remorseless  activity,  your  conduct  will 
23 


354  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

be  flagrantly  unreasonable.  What  will  you  do  ? 
Will  you  continue  to  act  as  if  you  have  a  plenty 
of  time  and  to  spare  —  as  if  there  is  no  manner  of 
urgency  in  your  religious  affairs,  and  they  can  be 
indefinitely  postponed  ;  or  worked  at  as  leisurely 
as  a  fashionable  education  ?  Or,  will  you  (con- 
sidering that  religion  is  a  work  of  the  last  conse- 
quence and  difficulty,  and  that  you  have  but  one 
short  life  in  which  to  do  it  —  indeed,  if  the  truth 
must  be  told,  but  a  mere  remnant  of  one  short 
life,  and  that  a  very  uncertain  remnant  too,  both 
as  to  length  and  availability),  will  you  rouse  your- 
self to  mighty  instant  work,  and  do  for  eternal  life 
with  both  hands  and  as  if  you  have  no  time  to 
lose  ?  Be  prevailed  upon  to  do  so.  Do  not  allow 
yourself  to  be  influenced  in  this  matter  by  the 
common  example.  It  is  a  pernicious  example. 
It  is  unreasonable,  and  will  be  fatal.  It  is  treat- 
ing religion  as  if  you  are  sure  of  life  and  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  as  if  life  for  repenting  purposes  is  an 
integer  instead  of  a  pitiful  fraction,  as  if  life  is 
Methuselean  or  you  have  a  hundred  lives  instead 
of  one.  Far  be  such  conduct  from  one  who  con- 
fesses to  the  grandeur  of  a  soul,  and  who  hears 
the  Scripture  bidding  him  do  with  his  might  what 
his  hands  find  to  do  ! 


A  PRESSING  CALL.  355 

There  is  yet  some  softness  in  your  heart.  As 
yet  the  Spirit  has  not  forsaken  you.  Methinks  I 
see  Him  offering  you  all  needed  aid  in  the  effort 
to  put  forth  the  Great  Decision.  Will  you  try  to 
do  it  ?  No  Divine  sovereignty,  no  foreordination, 
no  strength  of  whatever  evil  circumstance,  puts 
it  out  of  your  power  to  repent  and  believe.  I  beg 
that  you  will  do  what,  under  the  circumstances, 
you  can  do.  Not  merely  because  God  longs  to 
receive  His  enemies  as  friends,  nor  because  the 
heart  of  Christ  yearns  over  you,  nor  because  I 
have  a  duty  to  do  and  a  rewaid  to  gain,  nor  be- 
cause Christian  relatives  and  friends  would  be 
broken-hearted  should  you  be  cut  off  in  your  sins 
—  no,  not  merely  for  these,  but  for  j/our  oivu  sake. 
Think  how  your  controversy  with  God  is  daily 
strengthening.  Think  how  daily  your  heart  is 
hardening,  and  aversion  to  religion  getting 
stronger.  Think  how  God  is  getting  more  in- 
censed as  you  are  getting  more  guilty.  The  grow- 
ing difficulty  of  repenting  —  let  that  alarm  you. 
The  uncertain  tenure  by  which  you  hold  the  striv- 
ing Spirit  and  the  short  life  —  let  that  alarm  you. 
I  pray  you  by  your  hazard  of  perpetual  warfare 
with  God,  by  your  hazard  of  losing  the  world  of 
glory  and  gaining  the  world  of  woe,  by  the  bright- 


356  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

ness  of  all  you  value,  and  the  blackness  of  all  that 
you  fear  —  be  reconciled  to  God. 

"  As  though  God  did  beseech  you  by  us. " 
Look  on  these  words  of  mine  as  being  a  Divine 
beseeching.  Can  you  go  forward  in  the  face  of  an 
entreating  God  1  If  you  do,  what  guilt  is  yours  ! 
I  cannot  measure  it ;  I  cannot  express  it  ;  but 
you  can  feel  it.  Not  now.  After  the  fevered 
dream  of  life  is  over,  and  you  come  to  reap  the 
whirlwind  after  having  sown  to  the  wind,  then 
you  will  know  the  greatness  of  your  guilt  by  the 
greatness  of  your  punishment.  May  you  be  spared 
that  terrible  lesson.  Learn  anything  else,  but 
learn  not  what  it  costs  to  refuse  a  beseeching  God. 
Flee  far  from  the  faintest  glimpse  of  that  bitter 
knowledge.  Know  rather  the  happiness  and  the 
Heaven  of  yielding  to  that  Divine  entreaty.  Call- 
ing mightily  on  the  Savior  for  help  —  at  once  give 
yourself  completely  away  to  His  service.  Trust 
not  to-morrow.  O  To-morrow,  To-morrow,  how 
red  thou  art  with  the  life  of  souls  ! 


XXIII. 
WHAT   WILL    HE    DO? 


XXIII. 

WHAT  WILL  HE  DO? 

A/ONDER  is  a  human  being.  You  may  call 
-*-  him  Caucasian,  African,  Malay  —  any  of  the 
five  races.  You  may  call  him  English,  Turk, 
Chinese  —  any  of  the  hundred  nations.  You  may 
call  him  rich  or  poor,  wise  or  ignorant,  noble  or 
serf  —  any  of  the  thousand  classes  into  which 
society  is  divided.  You  may  call  him  Peter, 
James,  John ;  may  call  him  Pilate,  Caiaphas,  Ju- 
das—  any  of  the  millions  of  individual  men.  Suit 
yourself.  It  is  enough  if  he  is  a  sinful  and  con- 
demned child  of  Adam  to  whom  has  come  the 
glorious  Gospel. 

Behold  the  man  !  Here  is  one  for  whom  Christ 
died.  Here  is  one  to  whom  belongs  the  possibil- 
ity of  salvation.  O  thought  most  stupendous  ! 
The  necessary  foundation  for  mercy  has  been  laid, 
all  the  preliminaries  have  been  perfected,  and  now 
this  sinful,  condemned,  lost  man  can  be  saved  — 
saved  from  sin,  saved  from  hell,  saved  into 
Heaven.    And  this,  despite  Satan,  despite  the  love 


360  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

and  practice  of  sinning,  despite  evil  examples 
most  profuse,  despite  sentences  of  condemnation 
already  passed  and  heaped  up  about  him  in  terrific 
hugeness  quite  to  the  arch  of  heaven.  The  fact 
is  soon  stated.  Salvation  is  a  word  that  swiftly 
passes  the  lips  and  is  gone.  But  there  is  a  mean- 
ing here  that  is  oceanic :  and  who  is  so  wild  as  to 
think  that  there  will  ever  appear  a  soul  able  to 
drop  its  fathom-line  quite  through  such  ideas  as 
those  of  endless  guilt  and  sorrow  escaped,  and 
endless  holiness  and  happiness  won  } 

And  this  magnificent  possibility  of  salvation  is 
in  the  mails  oivn  hands.  In  a  sense,  it  may  be  in 
the  hands  of  Christian  friends  who  can  labor  with 
him  and  pray  for  him  ;  in  the  hands  of  the  Gospel 
minister  who  can  preach  faithfully  to  him  the 
convincing  Word  ;  above  all,  in  the  hands  of  God 
who  sends  the  regenerating  and  sanctifying  Holy 
Ghost  :  but  also,  in  a  true  and  most  commanding 
sense,  it  is  in  the  hands  of  the  man  himself  God 
has  seen  fit  to  put  him  in  charge  of  this  tremen- 
dous deposit.  Its  fate  is  left  at  his  discretion. 
No  power  above  or  below  is  allowed  to  overrule 
his  own  will  in  its  disposal.  Influences  of  various 
kinds  from  without  may  bear  on  his  will  to  deter- 
mine its  action ;    but,  at  the   last,  everything   is 


WHAT   WILL   HE  DO?  36  I 

made  to  hinge  on  his  own  free  choice.  He  may 
let  that  possibility  of  salvation  slip  away  from  him. 
He  may,  weakly  and  cowardly,  allow  one  enemy 
or  another  to  plunder  him  of  it.  He  may,  deliber- 
ately or  in  a  pet,  throw  it  away  from  him  as  men 
hurl  stones  out  of  a  sling.  And  he  may,  if  he 
pleases,  improve  that  glorious  opportunity  of  sal- 
vation to  the  utmost  —  may  turn  the  possible  sal- 
vation into  an  actual  one,  and  the  chance  of  an 
everlasting  Heaven  into  the  certainty  of  it.  Some 
of  his  opportunities  may  be,  as  it  were,  immovably 
glued  to  his  hands  —  no  negligence  and  no  vio- 
lence can  part  the  two  —  but  the  opportunity  of 
salvation  is  by  no  means  of  this  sort.  So  to  speak, 
it  lies  loose  on  his  palm.  Just  like  the  diamond 
of  nine  hundred  carats  which  the  Brazilian  slave 
has  picked  up,  but  has  not  yet  recognized.  He 
does  not  know  what  a  treasure  he  has.  He  thinks 
it  hardly  more  than  a  common  stone.  He  may 
hold  it  so  carelessly  and  sleepily  that  it  will  drop 
unawares  between  his  parted  fingers.  He  may 
fling  it  away  from  him  as  a  worthless  pebble. 
Or,  a  sudden  light  coming  to  him,  he  may  clasp 
his  fingers  tightly  about  it,  until,  arrived  in  the 
presence  of  his  master,  he  receives  in  exchange 
for  it  perpetual  freedom.     For  the  time  the  great 


362  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

gem  is  his  to  keep  or  to  lose  —  to  lose  in  this  way 
or  in  that,  according  to  his  folly  or  his  fancy. 
Just  so  with  the  possessor  of  that  mightier  jewel, 
the  possibility  of  salvation.  He  can  make  the 
most  of  it  or  nothing  of  it,  can  keep  it  or  lose  it, 
can  lose  it  in  any  one  of  many  ways  — just  as  he 
pleases  ;  according  to  his  wisdom,  his  folly,  or  his 
fancy. 

What  will  he  do  with  it  ?  A  celebrated  writer 
has  written  a  book  with  this  title  :  but  the  ques- 
tion is  asked  solely  in  view  of  that  class  of  possibili- 
ties with  which  the  novelist  is  accustomed  to  deal. 
I  ask  it  in  view  of  that  far  grander  sort  of  possibil- 
ity —  the  possibility  of  eternal  salvation  —  which 
yonder  man  has  in  his  own  hands,  to  keep  or  to 
lose,  according  to  his  own  sovereign  choice.  Will 
he  at  last  make  anything  out  of  it  —  make  an 
actual  salvation  out  of  it .-'  Or,  will  he  throw  it 
away  —  if  you  please,  allow  it  to  slip  away  at  una- 
wares out  of  his  relaxed  and  sleepy  hand  } 

What  will  he  do  zvith  it  ?  There  is  no  doubt 
what  he  ought  to  do  with  it.  He  ought  to  im- 
prove it  —  ought  to  make  an  actual  salvation  out 
of  it.  Very  many  statements  need  to  be  looked 
at,  at  least  twice,  before  their  justice  is  perfectly 
apparent :  and  some  never  come  out  of  their  foggy 


WHAT  WILL  HE  DO?  363 

doubtfulness,  though  the  lookings  toward  them  be 
indefinitely  repeated.  Not  such  the  present  state- 
ment. The  first  glance  floods  it  with  the  light  of 
an  axiom.  Any  doubt  what  he  ought  to  do  with 
his  glorious  opportunity  of  salvation  —  any  doubt 
whether,  the  matter  being  in  his  own  hands,  he 
ought  to  make  sure  of  a  permanent  deliverance 
from  all  sins  and  miseries  in  the  next  life  by  a  vol- 
untary abandonment  of  sin  in  this  —  any  doubt 
whether  he  should  do  a  holiest  thing  by  holiest 
means  when  both  are  possible  —  any  doubt  at 
clear  midday  whether  the  great  sun  is  shining  and 
the  landscape  swimming  in  his  dazzling  pomp  of 
beams  !  Whatever  other  things  are  dark  this  is 
not.  Yonder  man,  with  the  wonderful  opportunity 
of  salvation  in  his  hands  to  be  treated  just  as  he 
pleases,  should  not  throw  the  gem  from  him  as 
though  some  refuse  thing  ;  nor  should  he  allow  it 
to  be  filched  or  fought  away  from  him  by  his  ene- 
mies in  some  moments  of  negligence  or  coward- 
ice ;  nor  should  he,  under  pressure  of  any  worldly 
occupation  or  weariness  or  indolence,  suffer  his 
fingers  to  relax  and  straighten  and  part  and  finally, 
at  some  unknown  moment,  let  the  heavenly  jewel 
slip  between  them  and  disappear  forever :  but  he 
should  clutch  it,  and  hold  it  with  strained  and  in- 


364  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY 

exorable  hands,  while,  with  hasteful  diligence,  he 
shapes  the  possibility  of  salvation  into  the  glori- 
ous certainty  of  it. 

What  will  he  do  zuith  it  ?  There  is  no  doubt 
as  to  what  he  had  better  do  with  it  —  as  little  as 
there  is  as  to  what  he  ought  to  do  with  it.  He  had 
better  improve  that  opportunity  of  salvation :  he 
had  better  do  it  forthwith,  at  whatever  expense  of 
labor  and  sacrifice.  This  is  another  plain  matter 
that  cannot  be  challenged.  It  is  often  hard  to 
tell  where  a  man's  interest  lies  :  and  many  is  the 
case  where  he  might  vainly  puzzle  days  and 
weeks  over  such  a  question.  But,  when  it  is 
asked  whether  yonder  man  who  holds  in  his 
hands  the  possibility  of  salvation,  would  not  find 
it  for  his  interest  to  make  all  dispatch  in  con- 
verting the  chance  of  salvation  into  the  assur- 
ance of  it,  we  have  no  need  to  ponder  and  jjuzzle 
as  if  over  some  knotty  problem  of  the  mathe- 
matics. The  answer  shines  in  at  our  eyes  like  a 
tropical  noon-day  as  soon  as  we  look  at  the  ques- 
tion. "He  had  better  do  it,  we  say  to  ourselves 
with  an  instantaneous  and  irresistible  flash  of 
conviction  ;  and  we  know  that  should  we  live  as 
long  as  the  patriarchs  we  could  never  manage  to 
take  a  different  view  of  the  case.     Solomon  calls 


WHAT   WILL   HE  DO?  365 

the  man  a  fool  who  neglects  religion.  God,  in 
the  parable  of  the  rich  man  who  gave  himself  up 
to  his  temporal  schemes  in  neglect  of  his  soul, 
says  to  him,  Thou  fool !  And  observation,  en- 
lightened by  Scripture,  feels  permitted  to  vary 
somewhat  a  certain  question  proposed  by  Jesus, 
and  ask.  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  lose  the 
world  and  lose  his  soul  too  :  and  what  can  pay  a 
man  for  the  loss  of  both  this  world  and  the  next  ? 
—  for  such,  no  doubt,  is  the  double  loss  a  man 
has.  to  submit  to  who  fails  to  improve  his  oppor-' 
tunity  of  salvation.  There  are  some  small  con- 
veniences in  allowing  that  opportunity  to  slip 
away  unimproved — some  labor  and  penitent  bit- 
terness are  spared,  and  some  sacrifices  of  pleasant 
indulgences  avoided  —  but  it  is  hardly  worth 
while  for  Esau  to  part  with  his  birthright  for  a 
mess  of  pottage,  for  Eve  to  part  with  Paradise  for 
the  sweetness  of  a  fruit,  for  fugitive  Louis  XVI. 
to  barter  away  his  kingdom  and  life  for  a  few 
minutes'  walk  in  the  sunshine  outside  of  his  hotly- 
pursued  carriage  ;  and  it  is  hardly  worth  while  for 
yonder  man,  who  has  the  interests  of  his  soul  for 
an  eternity  in  his  own  keeping,  to  let  them  all  go 
into  perdition  for  the  sake  of  such  mere  pittances 
of  gratification  as  sin  has  to  offer. 


366  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

What  will  lie  do  with  it  ?  There  is  no  doubt 
what  he  ought  to  do  with  it,  no  doubt  what  he 
had  better  do  with  it,  and  as  little  doubt  what  he 
will,  some  day,  wish  he  had  done  with  it.  Beyond 
question,  he  will  see  the  time  when  he  will  wish 
with  all  his  soul,  permanently  wish,  that  he  had 
improved  his  opportunity  of  salvation  from  the 
very  first  of  his  having  it.  Should  he  finally 
throw  it  away,  or  lose  it  in  any  way,  it  is  abso- 
lutely certain  that  he  will  come  to  bitterly  regret 
his  folly,  and  that  his  heart  will  keep  aching  over 
it  for  evermore.  Conceive  him  dying  —  how  he 
wishes  he  had  used  his  opportunity  !  Conceive 
him  at  the  tremendous  judgment-seat — oh,  how 
he  wishes  he  had  used  his  opportunity  !  Con- 
ceive him  within  the  closed  and  sealed  gates  of 
his  eternal  doom  —  oh,  how,  beyond  description, 
he  wishes  he  had  used  his  opportunity  !  At  such 
times,  and  probably  at  others  less  formidable,  rea- 
son, and  conscience,  and  experience  and  fear  will 
rouse  themselves  to  testify  what  he  should  have 
done,  and  what  he  had  better  have  done,  till  his 
heart  becomes  speared  with  regret  that  he  did  not 
long  ago  convert  the  possible  salvation  into  an 
actual  one.  When  we  see  the  child  at  his  school, 
and  the  young  man  at  his  college,  throwing  away 


WHAT   WILL   HE   DO?  367 

his  chance  for  a  splendid  education,  we  take  it 
on  ourselves  confidently  to  predict  that  he  will 
see  a  day  when  he  will  regret  very  keenly  the 
truancy  and  the  pleasures  and  the  indolence 
which  are  now  cheating  him  out  of  the  honor  and 
usefulness  of  a  life-time  :  and  shall  we  hesitate  to 
say  that  the  man  who  allows  his  prospects  for 
eternity  to  go  to  ruin,  and  sacrifices  to  his  in- 
dolence or  his  sin  the  glory  and  happiness  of 
Heaven,  will,  sooner  or  later,  reach  a  time  when 
he  will  bitterly  rue  his  misconduct,  and  thence- 
forward rue  it  permanently  ?  For  a  little,  it  may 
be,  Esau  cared  little  that  his  birthright  had 
slipped  away  so  lightly  between  his  fingers  :  but 
at  last  came  a  day  of  broad  waking  up  to  the 
full  meaning  of  the  calamity  he  had  incurred, 
and  then  a  barbed  arrow  went  in  at  his  heart 
and  remained  there  as  long  as  he  lived.  For 
a  short  time,  a  very  short  one  probably,  our  first 
parents  may  have  made  little  account  of  what 
dropped  irrevocably  out  of  their  hands  when  they 
opened  them  to  pluck  the  forbidden  fruit :  but,  on 
the  day  when  they  were  chased  out  of  Paradise 
by  s worded  angels,  they  waked  up  to  a  wormwood 
retrospect  that  embittered  all  the  rest  of  their 
lives.     And,  for  a  brief  space,  yonder   man  who 


368  PARISH  CHRITIANITY. 

has  in  his  hands  the  opportunity  of  salvation,  to 
do  with  it  just  as  he  pleases,  should  he  allow  that 
opportunity  to  run  to  waste  while  he  is  trying  to 
lay  hands  on  earth's  trifles,  may  journey  forward 
very  easily  and  composedly  through  the  years  : 
but  he  will  finally  reach  a  point  where  the  light 
will  fall  strongly  on  his  vacant  hands,  and  then 
his  startled  thoughts  will  rush  back  to  see  how, 
all  along  that  highway,  the  precious  jewels  filtered 
through  his  careless  fingers  until  none  were  left, 
and  then  his  mourning  will  begin,  never  to  end. 

What  will  he  do  with  it  ?  No  doubt  what  he 
ought  to  do  with  it,  no  doubt  what  he  had  better 
do  with  it,  no  doubt  what  he  will  some  day  wish 
he  had  done  with  it,  but  very  considerable  doubt 
what  he  will  actually  do  with  it.  Not  to  God, 
who  sees  all  ends  from  their  beginnings.  He 
knows  precisely  how  the  man  will  deal  with  his 
treasure.  But  to  me  it  is  a  matter  of  very  con- 
siderable doubt.  I  hope  he  will  improve  it  — 
it  would  be  so  dreadful  a  thing  for  him  to  miss 
of  salvation.  Possibly  he  will  —  men  appearing 
not  more  favorably  than  he,  have  done  so,  are 
doing  so  to-day.  Still  there  is  no  certain  telling. 
Men  appearing  as  well  as  he,  have,  in  very  many 
instances,  thrown  away  their  opportunity  of  sal- 


WHAT   WILL   HE   DO?  369 

vation,  are  doing  so  on  every  hand.  True,  it 
is  an  opportunity  of  inconceivable  preciousness 
and  magnificence  :  true,  the  motives  to  neglect 
it  are  of  the  paltriest  :  one  looking  at  these  alone 
might  well  think  the  neglect  impossible.  But 
facts  are  stubborn  things.  Do  you  not  notice 
how  people  every  day  throw  away  great  interests 
for  mere  nothings  !  Look  toward  almost  any 
point  of  the  compass,  and  you  will  see  health, 
fortune,  friends,  reputation,  carelessly  projected 
into  the  air,  like  so  many  worthless  stones,  in 
order  that  the  hands  that  held  them  may  be  free 
to  catch  hold  of  some  pinch-beck  bauble.  Nay, 
you  will  see  salvations  themselves  go  spinning 
through  the  air  from  hands  hurrying  to  grasp 
some  hollow  trifle,  some  flimsy  tinsel,  of  this  de- 
ceitful world.  Is  yonder  man  any  wiser  and  bet- 
ter than  many  of  these  who  do  so  unwisely  and 
badly  .''  Not  a  whit :  and  so  I  have  doubts  and 
fears  as  to  what  he  will  do.  I  am  afraid  he  will 
do  as  so  many  others  have  done,  and  are  doing. 
I  have  seen  too  much  of  the  power  of  old  asso- 
ciations ;  too  much  of  the  deep  ruts  which  ancient 
habits  wear  in  the  character ;  too  much  of  the 
craft  of  Satan,  and  the  deceitfulness  of  sin,  and 
the  ease  with  which  an  informal  and  vague  pro- 
24 


370  PARTSH  CHRTSTIANITY. 

crastination  noiselessly  fritters  away  year  after 
year  of  a  narrow  probation  ;  too  much  of  urgent 
influences  vainly  employed  by  God  to  persuade 
such  men  to  improve  their  winged  opportunity  of 
salvation  —  not  to  have  most  serious  apprehen- 
sions, not  to  say  expectations,  that  yonder  man 
will  at  last  take  his  place  by  the  side  of  countless 
others  in  saying,  The  harvest  is  past,  and  the 
summer  ended,  and  I  am  not  saved. 

Doubtful  whether  he  will  be  saved  !  Doubtful 
what,  in  the  terrible  sovereignty  of  his  free  moral 
agency,  he  will  do  with  it  —  with  that  magnificent 
chance  of  a  permanent  escape  from  sin  and  mis- 
ery and  perdition  into  Heaven  !  What  a  doubt 
is  this  !  Tremble,  ye  friends  of  his  —  ye  parents, 
children,  brothers,  sisters  —  tremble,  as  ye  think 
of  this  tremendous  uncertainty  ;  as  ye  think  of 
what  the  Christian  salvation  means  ;  as  ye  think 
of  what  eternity  and  hell  and  Heaven  mean  ; 
as  ye  see  how  loosely,  to  say  the  least,  he  tends 
to  hold  in  his  hands  that  inestimable  jewel 
of  a  possible  salvation  ;  as  ye  see  the  relaxed, 
straightening,  parting  fingers  of  him  who  goes 
carelessly  stumbling  forward  through  the  years 
with  wandering  eye.  God  forbid  that  peerless 
treasure  should    be  lost  !     Is  there  nothing  you 


WHAT  WILL  HE  DO?  371 

can  do  to  prevent  it  ?  True,  the  matter  at  the 
last  is  altogether  in  his  hands  •;  and  should,  at 
last,  his  eye  become  steady  and  wary,  and  his 
fingers  tighten  like  a  vice  about  the  nine  hun- 
dred carat  gem  he  carries,  until  he  lays  it  down  in 
God's  treasury  above  in  exchange  for  the  still 
nobler  gem  of  eternal  life  itself,  it  will  be  because 
the  fiat  to  do  so  has  gone  out  from  the  throne  of 
his  own  sovereign  will.  Still,  you  may  be  able  to 
reach  that  sovereign  will  with  shaping  influences. 
See  if  you  cannot.  God  is  trying  what  He  can 
do  —  do  you  try  what  you  can  do.  Is  there  not 
such  a  thing  as  prayer,  which  before  now  has 
been  potent  in  such  cases  .-*  Have  you  not  some 
faculty  of  truth-telling,  of  remonstrance,  of  en- 
treaty, of  persuasion  .-•  Oh,  pray  that  the  poor 
man  may  not  at  last  be  found  to  have  thrown 
away  his  Chance  —  or  to  have  lost  it  in  milder 
ways.  Oh,  bring  your  personal  influence  to  bear 
directly  upon  him,  in  every  possible  way  and  at 
every  possible  angle,  to  have  him  make  the  most 
of  this  his  Main  Chance.  Perhaps  you  will  reach 
him.  Perhaps  you  will  be  able  to  create  a  happy 
answer  to  the  question.  What  luill  he-  do  zvith  it  ? 
will  be  able  to  answer  joyfully  still  another  ques- 


372  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY 

tion,  What  has  he  done  zuith  it  ?  by  saying,  He 
has  improved  it,  he  has  made  the  most  of  it,  he 
has  converted  the  possible  salvation  which  God 
put  into  his  hands  into  an  actual  one. 


XXIV. 
OBSTACLES. 


XXIV. 

OBSTACLES. 

"\T  THY  do  not  men  repent  as  soon  as  sum- 
'  '  moned  ?  If  we  look  to  the  very  bottom 
of  the  matter  we  shall  find  that  the  obstacles 
are  underlaid  by,  and  begin  in,  three  things,  viz., 
constitutional  depravity,  sinful  habit,  and  certain 
evil  influences  from  without  headed  by  Satan. 
Without,  is  a  living  hostile  power,  a  fallen  arch- 
angel, doing  all  he  can  to  oppose  the  repentance  — 
engineering  against  it  men  and  things,  as  well  as 
his  own  personal  force,  with  bitter  vigilance  and 
vigor.  Within,  the  soul  itself  is  fallen  ;  has  nat- 
ural tendencies  to  sin  ;  by  hereditary  fault  is  dis- 
proportioned,  unbalanced,  disordered,  indisposed 
to  a  religious  life.  And  then,  on  this  native  de- 
pravity has  grown  up  by  degrees  a  system  of  sin- 
ful habits  —  a  certain  facility  and  momentum  in 
impenitent  ways  of  living,  arising  from  practice, 
which  are  themselves  a  distinct  power  against  the 
Gospel- 
Out  of  these  roots  grow  certain  secondary  ob- 
stacles. 


3/6  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

And,  first,  there  is  wibelief —  a  principle  which 
by  itself  defeats  many  a  call  to  repentance.  "  Re- 
nounce your  sins  ;  undertake  Christ's  whole  ser- 
vice ;  take  refuge  in  His  blood  for  all  the  evil 
past,"  says  the  urging  Gospel.  The  sinner  hears 
and  says  to  himself,  "  Perhaps  the  Gospel  is  not 
true  ;  perhaps  even  a  God  is  a  mere  superstition  ; 
at  least,  perhaps  there  is  no  fearful  penalty  for 
not  repenting."  It  seems  to  him  that  there  is  at 
least  a  possibility  that  the  current  views  on  these 
points  are  mistaken  ;  and  he  allows  that  supposed 
possibility  to  quench  his  fears,  and  quench  the 
Holy  Spirit.  On  the  strength  of  that  slender /^r- 
Jiaps  he  takes  out  a  new  lease  of  impenitent  living. 
In  that  cockle-shell  of  a  boat  he  puts  forth  again 
into  the  mid-sea  of  ungodliness.  And  this,  often, 
against  great  remonstrances  and  demonstrations 
of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  ;  and  although  it 
is  proved  to  him  that,  if  his  assumed  possibility 
were  genuine,  it  would  still  be  the  part  of  wisdom 
not  to  treat  it  as  if  a  certainty,  or  even  as  if  a 
probability.  So  strongly  do  Satan,  and  depravity 
of  nature,  and  sinful  habits,  act  through  the  chan- 
nel of  unbelief. 

Another  obstacle  to  repentance  is  inconsidera- 
tiou.     Some  who  believe   do   not   reflect.     They 


OBSTACLES.  '3^'J'J 

have  a  vague,  general  conviction  that  the  facts  are 
as  evangehcal  Christendom  represents  them,  but 
they  give  these  facts  no  particular  attention.  That 
there  is  a  God,  that  the  Scriptures  are  His  in- 
spired message,  that  to  repent  and  believe  practi- 
cally are  essential  to  salvation,  they  do  not  ques- 
tion :  only  no  sufficient  thought  is  given  to  these 
ideas.  They  are  suffered  to  lie  half  covered  up  in 
obscure  corners  of  the  mind  for  months  and  years 
together.  If  they  creep  abroad,  they  are  straight- 
way sent  back  to  their  obscurities.  If  they 
clamor,  they  are  silenced.  So  many  other  things 
are  to  be  thought  of.  The  world's  affairs  and 
cares  keep  one  so  busy.  Or,  these  men  love  their 
ease  too  well  to  bend  their  minds  to  such  disquiet- 
ing themes.  They  avoid  books  that  treat  of  them. 
They  avoid  men  that  speak  of  them.  In  some 
cases  they  even  avoid  the  sanctuary,  and  other 
means  of  grace,  lest  they  should  be  compelled  to 
think.  Such  views  of  religious  facts  as  from  time 
to  time  spontaneously  flit  through  their  minds  do 
not  deserve  the  name  of  thought.  And  thus  it 
happens  that  they  do  not  repent.  Were  they  to 
think  on  their  condition  and  the  leading  features 
of  the  Gospel  with  any  tolerable  measure  of  faith- 
fulness, many  of  them  would  anxiously  flee  from 


378  PARISH  CHRISTIAA'ITY. 

the  wrath  to  come.  If  they  die  in  their  sins  and 
one  asks,  Why  is  it,  the  whole  story  is  told  in  a 
single  word  —  Inconsideration. 

Another  obstacle  —  insensibility.  See  yonder 
men  !  They  go  wherever  sermons  are  to  be  heard, 
they  courteously  accept  whatever  exhortations  are 
addressed  to  them,  they  keep  up  quite  a  consider- 
able acquaintance  with  orthodox  religious  litera- 
ture and  defend  it.  And  it  is  well.  They  are 
wanting  in  one  obstacle  to  salvation  that  destroys 
many.  But  another  obstacle  still  remains.  They 
are  without  feeling.  Somehow,  their  familiarity 
with  the  truth  does  not  seem  to  get  hold  of  the 
sensibilities.  They  are  not  afraid  when  viewing 
God's  fearful  things,  nor  attracted  when  viewing 
His  attractive  things.  They  sometimes  wonder 
at  their  own  indifference.  It  seems  almost  be- 
yond nature,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  responsible 
control.  And  it  is  wonderful  —  a  wonderful  ob- 
stacle to  repentance.  Who  repents  till  he  is  fairly 
roused  }  If  such  persons  die  in  their  sins  and 
some  one  asks,  Why  is  it,  there  is  one  w(5rd  that 
tells  the  whole  story  —  viz.,  Insensibility. 

But  there  is  a  worse  obstacle  to  repentance  than 
want  of  feeling  —  it  is  feeling  against  religion. 
The  truth  is  heard  ;  Christ's  calls  to  a  new  char- 


OBSTACLES.  379 

acter  and  life  come  before  the  soul ;  and  now  it  is 
not  as  in  the  cases  just  considered,  where  all  is 
met  with  a  hard  and  sleepy  indifference.  There  is 
strong  feeling.  But  it  is  a  feeling  of  opposition. 
The  soul  is  angry  at  the  truth.  Christ  is  repulsive 
to  its  tastes.  It  feels  bitterly  toward  His  doc- 
trines, toward  His  precepts,  and  toward  His  al- 
lotments. Not  wormwood  is  so  bitter  to  some  of 
these  awakened,  exasperated  people.  They  can 
have  no  patience  with  any  who  speak  to  them  on 
the  hateful  topic.  They  will  go  greatly  out  of 
their  way  to  escape  the  faithfulness  of  a  Christian 
friend.  The  conscious  repugnance  is  against  re- 
ligion in  general.  In  some  instances,  however,  it 
is  only  against  particular  branches  of  Christ's  ser- 
vice ;  particular  duties  or  doctrines  ;  perhaps  a 
single  duty.  Were  it  not  for  some  single  thing 
which  the  Gospel  requires  and  which  is  very  of- 
fensive to  him,  many  a  man  would  see  nothing  in 
the  way  of  his  becoming  a  Christian  to-day.  But 
he  is  very  unwilling  to  forgive  his  enemy,  or  very 
unwilling  to  baptize  his  property  in  the  name  of 
Christ,  or  very  unwilling  to  take  publicly  the  garb 
and  banner  of  a  disciple,  and  it  is  this  that  blocks 
up  to  him  the  gates  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  His 
feelings  are  not  consciously  enlisted  against  the 


380  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

general  service  of  Christ  :  and  yet  his  state  is  such 
as  barricades  strongly  against  conversion.  One 
cannot  take  even  a  single  pet  sin  with  him  through 
the  strait  gate.  And,  rather  than  give  that  up,  full 
many  a  man  has  stood  out,  all  his  life  througij, 
against  the  strongest  means  of  grace,  against  con- 
science and  the  Holy  Ghost.  If  want  of  feeling 
is  an  obstacle  to  repentance,  there  is  a  still  greater 
obstacle  in  that  feeling  of  opposition  which  heats 
some  minds  when  the  claims  of  the  Gospel  are 
pressed  upon  them. 

These  fundamental  obstacles,  viz.,  unbelief,  in- 
consideration,  insensibility,  aversion,  are  often 
supported  by  subordinate  ones  like  the  following. 

First,  secular prospei'ity.  As  God  looks  at  the 
matter,  the  temporal  blessings  of  Providence 
ought  to  lead  their  possessor  to  repentance.  Is 
he  healthy  }  Does  he  scarcely  ever  have  a  pain  ; 
or  smallest  check  to  the  swift,  strong,  full  tide  of 
his  robust  vigor  }  Do  his  friends  multiply  }  Does 
his  business  prosper  and  his  home  brighten  }  He 
ought  in  gratitude  to  turn  his  heart  to  God.  To 
continue  to  alienate  affections  and  life  from  his 
Benefactor  is  very  unseemly  and  criminal.  And 
yet,  that  very  prosperity,  instead  of  proving  a 
help,  often  proves  a  hindrance  to  repentance.    His 


OBSTACLES.  38 1 

lusty  health  encourages  delay.  His  worldly  thrift 
makes  larger  his  self-sufficiency,  and  pride,  and 
covetousness.  The  comforts  of  this  world  indis- 
pose him  to  seek  a  portion  in  another.  So  it 
often  is  —  the  blessing  proves  the  bane,  and  we 
sadly  remember  the  passage,  How  hardly  shall 
they  that  have  riches  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God  !  You,  perhaps,  have  known  instances  in 
which  this  obstacle  has  fought  against  conversion 
like  an  armed  host.  It  has  brought  vast  rein- 
forcement to  the  unbelief,  or  the  inconsideration, 
or  the  insensibility,  or  the  aversion,  which  men 
must  conquer  before  they  enter  the  kingdom  of 
God. 

Second,  theological  speculation.  By  this  I  mean 
religious  inquiries  and  discussions  which,  how- 
ever useful  and  important  to  some,  are  to  an  im- 
penitent person  mere  matters  of  curiosity.  Elec- 
tion, and  free-will,  and  the  origin  of  sin,  and  the 
ultimate  essence  of  virtue  —  such  hard  topics 
have  their  use,  and  some  Christians  may  profita- 
bly task  their  faculties  upon  them.  But  the  im- 
penitent sinner,  who,  when  called  on  to  repent, 
falls  to  perplexing  himself  with  such  matters,  will 
find  that,  instead  of  helping  him  to  Christ,  they 
are  grievously   hindering   him.     It  is  as  if   one 


382  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

should  betake  himself  to  Algebra  before  learning 
the  alphabet.  The  mathematics  are  good,  but 
they  are  not  the  way  to  one's  letters.  Those 
high,  cloud-lands  of  religion  are  good  in  their 
place,  but  the  way  to  repentance  does  not  lie 
through  them.  Dealt  with  out  of  season  they  lead 
away  from  repentance.  They  put  out  of  sight  the 
business  on  hand.  They  make  the  mind  unprac- 
tical. They  scatter  the  sensibilities.  Unless  an 
inquiring  sinner  can  be  led  to  take  things  in  their 
proper  order  ;  to  repent  first,  and  search  into  the 
deep  things  of  God  afterward  —  he  never  will 
repent  at  all.  His  perplexing  theorizing  will  kill 
his  convictions.  It  will  drag  him  down  to  a 
worse  insensibility,  or  unbelief,  or  inconsidera- 
tion,  or  hostility.  So  far  from  it  being  necessary 
that  he  should  probe  to  the  core  the  metaphysics 
of  religion  in  order  to  repent,  it  is  necessary  for 
that  purpose  that  he  let  them  alone. 

Third,  example.  Pray  tell  me  why  that  man 
failed  to  come  to  Christ.  Yes,  I  will  tell  you  ;  and 
he  will  unconsciously  tell  you  himself,  if  you  will 
open  the  way  for  him  to  speak  on  the  faults  of 
Christians.  Instead  of  thinking  of  his  own  sins, 
he  became  critical  upon  his  neighbors  ;  gladly 
spied  out  their  faults,  real  or  supposed  ;  pleased 


OBSTACLES.  383 

himself  that  he  was  nearly  or  quite  as  good  as 
they,  professors  though  they  were  ;  charged  their 
faults,  and  even  the  hollow  slanders  on  them,  to 
religion  itself,  and  cheerfully  concluded  that  he 
could  get  along  about  as  well  without  religion  as 
with.  Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  the  revival  did 
not  touch  him.  Thus  he  stumbled  over  that 
common  stumbling-stone,  the  bad  example,  real 
or  supposed,  of  professing  Christians.  Perhaps 
he  was  aided  to  do  it  in  part  by  another  example. 
He  saw  that  most  men  of  all  classes  neglected  re- 
ligion. He  saw  that  some  of  these  were  men  of 
standing,  and  knowledge,  and  outward  good  be- 
havior. "  So  many  cannot  be  wrong,  and  miss  a 
happy  end,"  thought  he.  "  One  cannot  fare  very 
poorly  if  he  fares  with  such  men,"  thought  he. 
So  he  was  beguiled.  And  so,  heeding  not  the 
Scripture,  "  Go  not  with  the  multitude  to  do  evil," 
and  "There  is  no  wisdom  nor  understanding 
against  the  Lord,"  he  settled  into  a  feeling  of  se- 
curity, and  the  world  and  sin  took  back  all  their 
old  empire  over  him.  His  unbelief  took  on  new 
strength.  His  inconsideration  became  more  pro- 
found. His  insensibility  hardened  itself  still 
more.  His  aversion  plumed  itself  and  rose  to 
new  range  and  courage. 


384  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Fourth,  shame  —  false  shame  it  is  sometimes 
called,  because  based  on  false  views  of  things.     It 
is  hard  for  a  Christian  of  many  years'  standing  to 
understand  how  any  person,  at  all  acquainted  with 
the  place  which  the  Christian  Religion  holds  in 
the  world,  and  seeing  how  largely  the  weight  and 
character  of  almost  every  enlightened  community 
are  enlisted  on  its  side,  can  shrink  from  the  idea 
of  becoming  known  to  his  companions  as  a  Chris- 
tian, from  very  shame.     Yet  we  know  that  such 
an  extravagance   often   occurs.      Satan    has    his 
profane   wit.     The  thoughtless    and    the   wicked 
can  trifle  and  jeer  over  the  most  sacred  and  sol- 
emn  subjects.    They  do  not  spare  the  companion 
who  forsakes  their  circle  —  though  it  be  to  return 
to  his   God   and   Savior,   renounce  his  sins,  and 
save  his  soul.     Not  seldom  this  is  a  very  formid- 
able fact  to  one,  especially  a  young  person,  who 
is  agitating  the  question  whether  he  shall  plant 
himself  on  the  side  of  Christ.     He  thinks  of  what 
his  companions  will  say.    He  imagines  their  looks 
and  witticisms  when  they  hear  of  it.     And  the 
idea  terrifies  him.     Under  its  influence  he  puts 
aside    his    convictions,   and    returns    to  his    sins. 
Poor  young  man !  fearing  your  fellow  more  than 
your  Creator,    ashamed   of   the   glorious    Christ, 


OBSTACLES.  385 

ashamed  to  put  yourself  on  the  side  of  God  and 
angels  and  prophets  and  apostles  and  the  best 
of  every  age  and  name  !  What  a  ground  to  miss 
salvation  upon  ! 

Fifth,  self-ioill.  It  sometimes  happens  that 
men  profess  a  willingness,  and  even  desire,  to  be- 
come Christians,  and  wonder  why  they  make  no 
progress  :  while  all  the  time  their  wills  are  ob- 
stinately set  that  they  will  not  be  helped  toward 
conversion  by  such  and  such  means,  and  in  such 
and  such  ways.  Their  minds  are  made  up  that 
they  will  not  allow  themselves  to  be  helped  in  at 
the  Strait  Gate  by  certain  persons.  They  will  not 
come  in  by  the  way  of  asking  Christians  to  pray 
for  them.  They  will  not  of  themselves  go  to 
seek  counsel  and  light  from  any  one  ;  will  not  rise 
and  carry  anywhere  the  ancient  inquiry,  "  What 
must  I  do  to  be  saved  .''  "  —  the  minister,  and  the 
church,  and  the  truth  must  come  to  them.  And 
yet  they  claim  that  they  are  sincere  seekers,  and 
even  perhaps  that  they  are  willing  to  do  anything 
to  compass  so-  great  a  prize  as  salvation.  No 
wonder  that  in  such  a  course  they  do  not  find 
Christ.  Their  self-will  is  an  elifectual  obstacle. 
The  person  whose  heart  is  thoroughly  engaged 
in  seeking  salvation  will  welcome  any  means  of 
25 


386  PARISH  CHRISTIAA'ITY. 

help  that  has  been  found  useful  in  the  experience 
of  the  church.  And  the  person  who  has,  in  effect, 
adojDted  the  principle  that  he  will  go  to  Heaven 
in  his  own  way  or  not  go  at  all,  ivill  not  go.  That 
mountain  is  too  high  and  steep  to  be  climbed. 


XXV. 
EXCUSES. 


'      XXV. 

EXCUSES. 

T  T  is  by  no  means  uncommon  for  men  to  try 
-*-  to  justify  their  conduct  by  considerations 
quite  insufficient  for  the  purpose.  The  best 
men  do  it.     It  is  done  by  the  most  sensible. 

But  sensible  men,  I  think,  do  not  often  try  to 
justify  themselves  in  worldly  matters  by  consider- 
ations which  make  directly  against  them.  The 
shrewd  defendant  throws  the  whole  burden  of 
proof  on  the  plaintiff.  He  is  careful  not  to  allow 
himself  to  be  overwhelmed  by  arms  of  his  own 
furnishing.  But  it  is  far  otherwise  the  moment 
he  is  summoned  before  the  tribunal  of  religion 
to  show  why  he  remains  impenitent.  Then  his 
usual  shrewdness  seems  to  forsake  him.  Scarcely 
a  reason  he  offers  but  makes  against  himself. 
Ask  him  how  he  explains  his  attitude  toward 
God  and  religion.  Beg  him  to  tell  you  why  he 
does  not  give  immediate  attention  to  the  concerns 
of  his  soul.  And  when  his  excuses  are  all  in, 
and   the  best  as  well  as   the  worst  are  fairly  be- 


390  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

fore  you,  it  will  be  found  that  they  bear  no  trace 
of  that  just  thought  which  in  other  matters  he  is 
wont  to  show.  They  are  not  only  not  enough  to 
justify  him,  but  they  are  even  enough  to  condemn 
him.  His  excuses  are  to  him  what  Baalam  was 
to  Balak  —  certain  far-fetched  friends  doing  in 
the  critical  moment  just  the  opposite  of  what 
was  desired  of  them  ;  blessing  what  they  were 
desired  to  curse,  and  cursing  what  they  were  de- 
sired to  bless. 

In  general,  it  is  not  the  way  of  the  world  to 
undertake  a  formal  vindication  of  their  course  in 
neglecting  religion.  Not  a  few  will  frankly  con- 
fess that  it  cannot  be  justified.  And  yet,  if  we 
come  to  press  them  on  the  subject  of  personal 
religion,  we  shall  rarely  fail  to  hear  them  saying 
something  which  is  evidently  doing  in  their 
minds  the  work,  if  not  bearing  the  name,  of  an 
excuse  for  continuing  a  while  longer  in  their  sins. 
"  Certain  men  have  a  name  to  live  and  are 
dead,"  or  "  business  is  so  pressing,"  or  "  God  is 
very  merciful,"  or  "  the  Scriptures  are  very  ob- 
scure," or  "  the  soul  is  not  able  to  do  anything 
for  its  own  salvation,"  or  "  worldly  acquaintances 
will  speak  or  think  the  ridicule,"  or,  more  boldly, 
"  Christianity  is  an  unpalatable  thing  "  —  excuses 


EXCUSES.  391 

which,  so  far  from  answering  the  purpose  for 
which  they  are  brought,  are  so  many  sentences 
of  condemnation  on  those  who  bring  them. 

It  is,  my  friend,  as  you  say.  No  one  can  be 
more  awake  than  myself  to  the  exceedingly  un- 
worthy conduct  of  many  professed  disciples  of 
Christ.  All  of  them  are  very  imperfect.  Some 
show  such  dispositions  and  do  such  deeds  as  can 
only  belong  to  the  wicked.  I  freely  and  sadly 
admit  it  all.  And,  long  before  you  had  begun  to 
observe,  or  I  to  lament,  such  facts,  the  Bible  was 
out  with  its  free  telling  of  "  wolves  in  sheep's 
clothing,"  of  churches  so  distasteful  that  God  was 
almost  ready  to  "  spew  them  out  of  His  mouth," 
of  men  calling  Christ  Lor'd,  whom  He  never 
knew.  No,  it  is  no  discovery  of  yours  that  there 
are  persons  within  the  Christian  church  who  are 
no  better  than  they  should  be.  I  do  not  wonder 
that  you  have  noticed  a  fact  which  has  long  been 
published  to  the  four  winds.  What  I  do  wonder 
at  is  that  you  speak  of  it  as  a  sort  of  reason  for 
neglecting  a  while  the  concerns  of  your  soul. 
Certainly  God  can  say  to  you  when  using  such 
an  argument,  Out  of  your  own  mouth  will  I 
judge  you. 

Remember    the  war  of  the   Revolution.     The 


392  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

cause  was  good,  but  its  faithful  defenders  were 
few  and  weak.  It  had  hollow-hearted  friends.  In 
its  poorly  provided  camp  were  many  whose  pres- 
ence was  of  very  doubtful  advantage  —  some 
whose  presence  was  plain  disadvantage.  If  any 
American  had  been  led  by  these  circumstances 
to  stand  aloof  from  the  cause  of  his  bleeding 
country,  might  she  not  have  cried  to  him.  The 
fewer  faithful  soldiers  I  have,  the  more  need  I 
have  of  your  faithful  service.  Was  he  not  more 
bound  to  draw  his  sword  promptly  and  vigorously 
in  her  defense,  than  he  would  have  been  had  she 
been  watched  over  and  fought  for  by  numerous 
veteran  armies,  all  true  as  steel  to  her  interests } 
And  hence  I  may  say  to  you  that  the  fewer 
faithful  friends  the  cause  of  true  religion  has,  the 
more  need  of  your  espousing  it.  Every  new  in- 
stance of  treachery  to  her  interests  is  a  new  call 
on  whatever  is  just  and  honorable  within  you  to 
go  to  her  aid.  The  smaller  the  number  of  good 
examples  in  the  community  the  more  important 
is  it  to  have  yours.  The  fewer  lamps  there  are 
to  enlighten  the  darkness  of  the  world,  the  more 
need  of  having  yours  well  trimmed  and  brightly 
lighted.  When,  therefore,  I  urge  you  to  repent, 
and  you  answer  by  pointing  at  the  hardness  and 


EXCUSES.  393 

selfishness,  the  bitterness  and  pride,  of  some  man 
who  has  happened  to  find  his  way  into  the  Chris- 
tian church,  may  I  not  at  once  claim  the  sad  fact 
as  an  argument  for  •  religion,  and  beg  you  with 
new  urgency  to  espouse  heartily  that  noble  cause 
which  is  so  much  in  want  of  faithful  friends  ? 

But  you  are  "  very  busy."  From  morning  till 
night  your  thoughts  and  efforts  are  in  your  call- 
ing ;  and  when  the  evenings  and  sabbaths  come 
your  wearied  powers  must  rest.  Your  cares  are 
many  for  your  family  and  the  public,  as  well  as 
for  yourself.  It  is  a  constant  running  hither  and 
thither  to  meet  present  and  future  wants  ;  a  suit- 
able position  in  life  can  neither  be  gained  nor 
kept,  save  through  a  multitude  of  distractions  and 
labors.  Yes,  you  are  very  busy.  It  is  of  no  con- 
sequence to  me  to  hint  that  your  business  is  not 
quite  as  severe  and  constant  as  you  suppose  — 
that  there  are  many  moments  which  are  not  busy 
at  all,  or  busy  only  with  matters  which  could  well 
be  let  alone  —  and  that,  to  one  of  your  religious 
knowledge,  a  few  moments  well  improved  would 
be  enough  for  commencing  a  religious  life.  I 
know  that  one  can  fill  up  every  moment  of  the 
time,  during  which  he  is  capable  of  any  consider- 
able exertion,  with  the  perplexities  and  toils  of 


394  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

his  useful  calling,  so  that  there  shall  be  strictly 
no  room  for  effective  attention  to  the  concerns  of 
religion.  Such  is  your  case.  According  to  your 
present  mode  of  living  there  is  really  no  time  left 
for  eternity.  I  do  not  wonder  that  such  a  fact  as 
this  offers  itself  to  your  notice  while  you  are 
being  urged  to  repent.  What  I  wonder  at  is  that 
you  should  seem  to  speak  of  it  as  a  sort  of  reason 
for  neglecting  the  concerns  of  your  soul.  For, 
certainly,  God  can  say  to  you  when  using  such  an 
argument.  Out  of  your  own  mouth  will  I  judge 
you. 

What  sort  of  a  thing  is  this  mighty  industry  of 
yours  t  Has  it  no  other  name  than  industry  ? 
Your  honest  calling  is  doubtless  to  be  diligently 
followed  ;  but  from  what  quarter  comes,  the  infor- 
mation that  you  may  follow  it  so  diligently  as  to 
leave  no  time  and  energy  to  prepare  for  eternity  ^ 
Surely  conscience  never  whispered  it  in  her  most 
complying  moments  :  surely  never  did  you  hear 
it  from  that  Bible  which  bids  you  seek  first  the 
kingdom  of  God.  Neither  has  any  charity  for 
that  monstrous  industry,  which,  when  there  is  a 
soul  to  be  clothed  with  righteousness,  spends  all 
in  clothing  the  body  —  when  there  is  a  soul  to  be 
fed  with  that  bread  that  comes  down  from  heaven, 


EXCUSES.  395 

gives  itself  altogether  to  feeding  the  body  with 
the  meat  that  perishes  —  when  there  is  a  soul  to 
be  lifted  into  honor  and  riches  everlasting,  is  al- 
ways straining  itself  at  the  poor  task  of  lifting  the 
body  into  that  show  and  influence  which  grim 
death  will  make  a  mockery  of,  not  many  days 
hence.  What,  under  the  name  of  diligence,  you 
would  fain  have  taken  as  good  excuse  for  not 
promptly  repenting,  appears  before  God  under  the 
name  of  crime.  That  you  can  consent  to  shut 
yourself  out  so  completely  from  spiritual  and  heav- 
enly objects  shows  that  your  nature  is  exceedingly 
disordered  and  fallen.  Will  you  bring  forward  the 
very  sinfulness  and  disorder  of  your  nature  as  a 
reason  why  such  sinfulness  and  disorder  should 
be  continued  .''  As  well  might  the  sick  man  point 
to  the  fever  which  is  consuming  him  as  an  excuse 
for  refusing  for  the  present  the  medicine  which  is 
sure  to  heal  him.  It  is  the  very  fact  of  the  fever 
which  justifies  his  friends  in  urging  the  medicine 
upon  him  ;  and  every  new  proof  they  see  of  the 
violence  of  the  malady  is  to  them  a  new  ground  of 
urgency.  Just  so  your  extreme  devotion  to  the 
world  is  a  part  of  that  sin,  and  a  symptom  of  that 
undone  moral  condition,  which  makes  repentance 
and   a  new   heart   necessary,     When  therefore  I 


396  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

press  you  to  repent,  and  you  answer  by  point- 
ing at  your  whole  day  filled  with  eager  running 
after  temporal  good,  and  at  your  whole  soul  filled 
with  temporal  cares,  may  we  not  at  once  claim 
the  sad  fact  as  an  argument  for  religion,  and  be- 
seech you  with  new  zeal  to  apply  without  delay 
the  remedy  to  that  disease  which  already  gives 
such  proof  of  having  made  alarming  progress  ? 

You  say  truly  that  "  God  is  very  mercifiUy 
This  is  what  ministers  of  the  Gospel  have  been 
saying  loudly  ever  since  there  was  a  Gospel  to  be 
ministered.  Very  pitiful  and  full  of  compassion  is 
our  God  —  very  forbearing  and  tender  and  unwill- 
ing that  any  should  come  to  harm.  Never  had 
earthly  friend  half  the  enduring  gentleness  of  this 
our  Best  Friend  —  never  earthly  father  half  the 
loving  softness  and  yearning  good-will  of  this  our 
Father  in  Heaven.  That,  evil  and  unthankful  as 
we  are,  God  should  so  feel  toward  us  and  treat  us, 
is  indeed  a  fact  of  which  we  should  take  account. 
Let  us  never  lose  sight  of  it.  Let  it  be  to  us 
what  his  heavy  prize  is  to  the  poor  slave  who 
washes  for  diamonds  by  the  rivers  of  Brazil.  He 
has  been  promised  his  liberty  if  he  secures  a  gem 
of  a  certain  size  ;  and  now  that  he  sees  its  pre- 
cious beauty  in  his  hand,  how  tightly  his  fingers 


EXCUSES.  397 

draw  around  it,  and  how  resolutely  he  keeps  it  al- 
ways in  sight  till  he  can  deliver  it  up  to  his  master 
in  exchange  for  himself!  So  let  us  keep  ever  in 
our  eye,  and  ever  make  much  of,  that  wonderful 
mercy  of  God  which  is  our  only  hope.  Certainly 
I  do  not  wonder  that  such  a  surpassing  fact  as 
this  should  be  before  your  mind  when  I  ask  you 
to  begin  a  religious  life.  What  I  do  wonder  at  is 
that  you  should  seem  to  view  it  as  a  sort  of  rea- 
son for  delaying  religion.  For,  certainly,  God  can 
say  to  you  when  using  such  an  argument  as  this, 
Out  of  your  own  mouth  will  I  judge  you. 

We  read  that  "the  goodness  of  God  leadeth  us 
to  repentance."  However  you  may  use  it,  His 
great  mercifulness  to  you  is  meant  to  draw  you  to 
Himself.  Is  He  wrong  in  claiming  that  you  should 
love  and  serve  Him  because  He  is  kind  and  gra- 
cious, slow  to  anger  and  plenteous  in  mercy .-' 
Great  favors,  intended  and  conferred,  ought  to  in- 
spire great  gratitude,  and  not  encourage  aliena- 
tion. The  tender  mercifulness  of  Heaven  should 
break  the  hardness  of  your  heart,  instead  of  con- 
.  firming  it.  You  may  make  it  the  means  of  con- 
tinuing in  your  heart  the  winter's  cold  and  bar- 
renness ;  but  oh,  you  should  make  it  the  means  of 
bringing  to  your  heart  the  summer's  warmth  and 


398  PARISH   CHRISTIANITY. 

fruitfulness.  You  should  say,  "Since  God  is  so 
mightily  forbearing  under  my  provocations  ;  since 
He  gives  me  so  astonishingly  much  of  good  to 
enjoy  when  it  is  so  astonishingly  much  of  evil  that 
I  deserve  ;  since  His  attachment  to  me  is  so  un- 
bounded, His  efforts  for  me  so  unwearied.  His 
sacrifices  for  me  so  stupendous,  and  His  provis- 
ions for  my  whole  future  being  so  complete  and 
amazing,  I  cannot  endure  to  stand  any  longer  in 
the  ranks  of  His  enemies.  I  have  no  longer  any 
heart  to  set  at  nought  His  wishes  and  Spirit.  He 
shall  no  longer  be  the  only  benefactor  who  gets  no 
advantage  from  the  natural  instincts  of  gratitude 
which  Himself  has  planted  :  but  the  sweet,  untir- 
ing logic  which  my  sins  would  fain  wrest  to  their 
•own  defense  shall  be  allowed  to  smite  them  with 
all  its  conquering  keenness." 

If  I  ask  you  to  embrace  religion,  you  may  be- 
gin to  express  your  sense  of  the  "  obscurity  of  the 
Scriptures."  They  are  obscure.  No  commentary 
can  quite  lift  from  them  the  veil.  No  expounding 
sermon,  however  simple  its  Saxon  or  lucid  its 
thinking,  can  do  it.  The  study  which  can  master 
every  principle  of  a  human  science  until  it  shines  al- 
most as  clearly  as  an  axiom,  soon  comes  to  barriers 
that  cannot  be  passed  when  it  undertakes  to  in- 


EXCUSES.  399 

terpret  the  text-book  of  religion,*  That  Book,  to 
all  of  us,  and  especially  to  you,  is  like  a  system 
of  hieroglyphics  whose  alphabet  is  only  as  yet 
partly  made  out ;  and,  although  of  wonderful  use 
as  it  is,  and  destined  to  be  wonderfully  opened  to 
some  of  us  at  no  distant  day,  we  very  often  in  our 
reading  come  on  senses  to  which  we  have  as  yet 
no  clew,  and  are  reduced  to  conjecture  what  we 
cannot  know.  Yes,  an  obscure  Bible  is  freely  ad- 
mitted. No  concealment  has  ever  been  attempted. 
The  Bible  itself  publishes  the  fact  to  the  four 
winds,  and  bids  all  whom  it  may  concern  to  take 
notice.  I  do  not  wonder  then  that  your  eyes  are 
open  to  it  when  I  ask  you  to  take  the  Bible  as  the 
■supreme  rule  of  your  life.  What  I  do  wonder  at 
is  that  you  should  seem  to  speak  of  it  as  a  sort  of 
reason  for  continuing  to  live  under  the  guidance 
of  this  world.  For,  certainly,  God  can  say  to  you 
when  using  such  an  argument  as  this,  Out  of 
your  own  mouth  will  I  judge  you. 

The  duty  of  repentance  and  reformation  is  clear 
enough.  Clear  enough  is  it  that  it  is  the  blood  of 
Christ  which  makes  these  avail  for  our  salvation. 
If  the  obscurity  on  the  face  of  the  Scriptures  left 
you  unable  to  make  out  what  is  the  first  great  step 
you  are  to  take  towards  securing  the  holiness  and 


400  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

happiness  of  yowr  immortality,  then  you  would  be 
justified  in  mentioning  that  obscurity  as  a  reason 
for  inaction.  But  this  is  not  the  point  to  which 
darkness  belongs.  It  belongs  only  to  matters  quite 
aside  from  the  plan  of  salvation  —  which  is  left  to 
stand  out  in  such  brightness  that  the  humblest 
intellect  need  not  fail  to  comprehend  it.  How 
can  an  obscurity  like  this  excuse  a  mun  from  re- 
penting !  I  cannot  see.  But  I  can  see  bow  an  ob- 
scurity like  this  condemns  a  man  for  hot  repent- 
ing. A  new  heart  is  light  as  well  as  grace.  It  is  the 
opening  of  blind  eyes  and  the  unstopping  of  deaf 
ears.  Nothing  which  the  sinner  can  do  will  go  so 
far  toward  lifting  the  veil  from  the  face  of  the 
Scripture  as  becoming  a  Christian.  It  is  true  that 
after  that  event  he  will  not  be  without  his  difficul- 
ties of  interpretation  :  but  he  will  have  made  great 
progress,  and  will  be  on  his  way  to  a  glorious 
clearing  up  of  all  the  mysteries  of  religion.  Per- 
sonal religion  is  the  best  remedy  for  an  obscure 
Bible.  The  obscurity  is,  therefore,  a  call  for  the 
religion,  just  as  a  disease  is  a  call  for  the  remedy. 
When,  then,  I  press  you  to  repent,  and  you  answer 
by  pointing  at  that  general  aspect  of  mysterious- 
ness  which  the  word  of  God  has  to  your  eye,  may 
I  not  at  once  claim  the  fact  as  an  argument  for 


EXCUSES.  401 

religion,  and  pray  you  with  new  importunity  to 
bring  to  bear  upon  the  dark  pages  of  the  sacred 
volume  that  light  which  comes  from  a  heart  re- 
newed and  inhabited  by  the  Spirit  of  God  ? 

Are  you  not  a  sinner  ?  Should  I  carry  this  in- 
quiry around  to  every  person  in  the  Common- 
wealth I  should  expect  to  receive  in  almost  every 
case  an  affirmative  answer.  I  receive  it  ixovayou. 
And  yet  you  have  no  feeling  of  mortification  or 
sorrow,  are  seeking  no  pardon,  are  making  no  ef- 
fort to  be  better.  —  Are  not  the  morality  and  piety 
enjoined  by  Christianity  most  excellent .''  To  this 
inquiry  also  I  should  get  a  universal  affirmative. 
And  yet  you  decHne  to  practice  either  the  one  or 
the  other  in  its  appropriate  motive  and  spirit ;  for- 
getting your  God,  making  no  account  of  His  will  in 
your  plans,  and  neglecting  to  vitalize  the  outward 
proprieties  of  your  conduct  toward  your  fellow- 
men  by  a  spirit  of  disinterested  benevolence.  —  Is 
not  religion  a  matter  of  unspeakable  importance  .'' 
Not  a  single  nay  do  I  hear,  but  rather  a  frank  con- 
fession that  there  is  nothing  of  equal  consequence 
beneath  God's  canopy.  And  yet  in  practice  you 
make  it  secondary  to  everything  else  ;  any  little 
diversion  or  vanity  has  a  better  welcome  to  your 
thoughts  ;  you  will  not  seek  it  for  yourself  nor  re- 
26 


402  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

commend  it  to  others  ;  you  are  not  troubled  by 
its  defeats  nor  gratified  by  its  successes.  —  Is  this 
world  of  any  consequence  compared  with  the  eter- 
nal next  ?  None,  none  whatever,  is  the  ready 
answer  which  your  reason,  if  not  your  lip,  gives 
with  as  much  decision  and  unanimity  as  any  body 
of  devout  Christians.  And  yet  you  are  living  for 
this  world  wholly.  You  hasten  after  its  vanities 
as  if  they  were  the  end  of  your  being.  One  would 
think  you  were  at  home  rather  than  on  a  journey. 
You  are  wrapped  up  in  'these  transient  successes 
and  disappointments,  honors  and  disgraces,  pleas- 
ures and  sorrows,  while  the  great,  the  endless,  the 
overpowering  events  of  kindred  nature  which  be- 
long to  the  world  to  come  are  treated  almost  as  if 
they  were  fables.  Such  are  your  admissions,  and 
such  are  your  doings  !  What  an  irreconcilable 
controversy  between  them  !  What  stern  and 
sweeping  rebuke  do  your  own  words  minister  to 
your  own  self  !  And  fear  you  not  that,  at  some 
future  day,  your  very  candor  will  be  found  to  have 
furnished  all  the  materials  needed  for  your  sum- 
mary and  clear  conviction  ;  and  for  your  adjudg- 
ment to  the  extreme  penalties  of  that  Government 
which  knows  how  to  deal  with  men  on  the  princi- 
ple, Out  of  your  own  mouth  will  I  judge  you  } 


XXVI. 
INDIRECTIONS. 


XXVI. 

INDIRECTIONS. 

A  RIFLEMAN  stands  and  shoots.  Before 
■*-  him  may  be  a  target,  a  bird,  or  a  Hving  man. 
Perhaps  the  ball  will  make  its  way  accurately  to 
.  the  very  center  of  the  ring  or  heart  ;  and,  on  the 
other  hand,  it  is  not  at  all  unlikely  that  it  will  miss 
that  center  and  lodge  at  considerable  distance 
from  it.  The  chances  are  that  the  firing  will  be 
more  or  less  of  a  failure  —  in  nine  cases  out  of 
ten  it  will  be  firing  about  the  mark  rather  than 
upon  it. 

A  traveler  starts  on  a  journey.  It  may  be  that 
he  will  go  forward  to  the  place  he  would  reach  on 
a  line  altogether  direct  :  and  then  again  it  may 
be  that  he  will  strike  on  some  misleading  path, 
and  come  out  some  miles  to  the  right  or  left  of 
his  proper  destination.  Many  a  wayfarer,  espe- 
cially in  a  strange  country  or  in  the  night,  instead 
of  coming  to  his  point,  has  done  nothing  but 
travel  about  it  —  sometimes  to  the  east  and  some- 
times to   the  west    of  it,  sometimes  near  it  and 


406  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

sometimes  far  from  it.  All  night  he  has  traveled, 
and,  with  morning  light  and  inquiries,  he  finds 
himself  astray  from  his  goal  —  at  best  only  in  its 
neighborhood,  perhaps  no  nearer  to  it  than  he  was 
the  night '  before,  perhaps  further  from  it  than 
ever. 

A  speaker  comes  before  an  assembly.  He 
gives  out  his  subject.  It  may  be  that  he  will 
drive  at  once  by  the  shortest  line  to  the  marrow 
of  it :  and  it  may  be  that,  instead  of  coming  to 
the  point,  he  will  spend  his  hour  in  traveHng 
about  it,  if  not  away  from  it.  Often  does  it  hap- 
pen that  the  hearer  rises  from  his  hearing  with 
the  feeling  that  the  man  who  has  been  addressing 
him  has  been  engaged  in  archery  around  his 
theme  rather  than  on  it.  His  arguments  and 
illustrations  were  not  in  point.  He  said  many 
good  things  ;  they  had  some  sort  of  neighbor- 
hood relation  to  his  topic  ;  but  as  to  striking 
squarely,  or  even  obliquely,  upon  it,  they  did  not. 

In  all  these  cases  of  failure  to  come  to  the  point 
the  failure  is  not  intended.  An  archer  means  to 
hit  the  mark  about  which  his  arrows  fly,  the 
traveler  aims  to  reach  the  place  about  which  his 
steps  wander,  and  even  the  speaker  probably  has 
no    set  purpose  to  give  the   loose   and  rambling 


INDIRECTIONS.  407 

speech  which  actually  comes  from  him.  It  is  apt 
to  be  so  in  all  matters  of  this  world.  If  one  does 
not  come  to  the  point  he  still  wishes  to  do  it  and 
tries  to  do  it.  There  is  a  lack  of  ability,  of  skill, 
perhaps  of  industrious  effort :  but,  if  mere  wishing 
and  general  intent  that  way  could  send  a  man's 
arrow  to  the  very  center  of  the  worldly  target 
around  which  his  bow  is  dealing,  it  would  seldom 
remain  undone.  But  it  is  far  otherwise  in  the 
spiritual  affairs  of  men.  Here,  too,  is  abundant 
failure  to  come  to  the  point,  a  vast  shooting  and 
traveling  about  religion,  but  very  seldom  any  real 
wish  and  purpose  that  it  should  be  otherwise.  In 
this  field  we  have  two  of  the  worst  facts  ever  met 
with,  viz.,  a  grievous  indirection  and  circumlocu- 
tion in  dealing  with  the  gravest  matters,  and  the 
cooperation  of  the  will  and  heart  in  the  same. 

The  great  point  for  sinners  is  to  make  up 
their  minds  intelligently  and  thoroughly,  that. 
with  God's  help,  they  will  at  once  break  off 
from  all  sins  as  trusters  and  servants  of  Chri§t. 
But,  instead  of  coming  straightly  and  squarely 
up  to  this  point,  the  habit  is  to  beat  about  it, 
if  not  to  go  directly  away  from  it.  A  few  re- 
fuse, perhaps  with  imprecations,  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  Christ  and  His  service.     They 


408  PARISH  CHRISTIAiXITY. 

pour  scorn  on  religion.  They  declare  there  is 
nothing  in  it,  and  they  want  nothing  of  it.  But 
these  are  exceptions.  The  sinners  in  our  con- 
gregations know  better  than  to  take  such  a 
gloomy  stand  as  this.  Possibly  they  would  not 
take  it  for  the  world.  Still,  they  are  not  quite 
ready  to  come  to  the  point  of  a  hearty  renun- 
ciation of  sin  and  embracing  of  Christ's  service. 
They  think  about  it  from  time  to  time  ;  they 
hear  and  read  about  it  in  churches,  and  Bibles, 
and  elsewhere  ;  they  have  at  times  not  a  few 
good  wishes  and  feelings  about  it,  perhaps  they 
even  go  so  far  as  to  have  most  excellent  reso- 
lutions about  it  —  but,  after  all,  the  dealing  is 
about  the  point,  not  at  it.  It  is  an  indirection, 
a  circumlocution.  It  is  a  firing  about  the  mark, 
a  wandering  about  the  place  of  destination,  a 
talking  about  the  subject.  The  thing  to  be 
done  is  to  repent  at  once.  Doing  nothing  is  not 
coming  up  to  this  point.  Thinking  about  re- 
pentance is  not  immediate  repentance.  Hearing 
sermons  and  reading  good  books  is  not  actual 
turning  to  God.  Resolving  to  repent  at  some 
future  time,  definite  or  indefinite,  is  not  repent- 
ing now.  Having  feeling  on  the  subject  of  re- 
ligion, wishing  one's    self    were   a    Christian,  is 


INDIRECTIONS.  409 

not  becoming  a  Christian.  It  is  merely  dealing 
with  the  suburbs  of  the  subject.  If  one  never 
gets  any  nearer  the  heart  of  it  than  this  he  will 
never  get  at  salvation.  It  is  coining  to  the  povit 
that  saves  the  soul  —  not  traveling  around  and 
abound  it. 

One  of  the  miseries  of  this  indirection  and 
circumlocution  is  that  it  is  intentional.  Sinners 
do  not  miss  the  mark  through  mistake  or  want 
of  skill,  do  not  travel  around  and  around  their 
place  of  destination  because  they  cannot  find  it. 
Their  intentions  are  at  fault.  They  secretly  wish 
and  mean  to  avoid  present  action.  They  dare 
not  forsake  the  matter  of  religion  altogether,  and 
yet  they  are  not  quite  ready  to  act  decisively  in 
its  favor  ;  so  they  make  a  compromise, "and  move 
about  the  point,  instead  of  upon  it.  Had  they 
fairly  meant  it,  all  these  men  might  have  come 
to  the  point  of  personal  religion  years  ago.  The 
archer  tries  to  send  his  arrow  to  the  very  center 
of  his  mark  ;  the  traveler  tries  to  reach  the 
place  which  he  misses  ;  and,  for  aught  I  know, 
the  speaker  with  all  his  ramblings  really  tries  to 
keep  to  his  subject.  Not  so  the  sinner.  His 
secret,  if  not  open,  purpose  is  to  miss  the  point 
at  issue  for  the  present. 


410  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

And  why  ?  A  soldier  is  sometimes  compelled 
to  fetch  a  compass  on  the  city  or  army  which  he 
is  concerned  to  take.  A  traveler  cannot  by  any 
means  always  go  to  his  goal  on  a  straight  line,  or 
even  on  one  not  full  of  zigzags.  But  there  is  no 
cannot  in  the  way  of  a  man  coming  to  the  point 
in  the  matter  of  repentance.  Your  not  repent- 
ing, O  sinner,  is  not  because  repentance  is  not 
possible  ;  nor  is  it  because  it  is  not  right  ;  nor  is 
it  because  it  is  not  expedient.  Why  not  come  to 
the  point,  then,  straightly  and  strongly }  The 
truth  is,  the  secret  heart  shrinks,  the  will  is  prone 
in  the  opposite  direction,  temptations  are  strong, 
and  Satan  is  active.  If  the  truth  must  be  told, 
you  have  no  relish  for  the  thing  to  be  done,  but 
the  contrary  ;  you  are  too  busy  in  coming  to  the 
point  in  other  things  —  you  must  finish  such  and 
such  enterprises  ;  you  want  to  have  as  large  a 
taste  of  the  world  as  possible  before  quitting  it 
finally. 

Sometimes  it  is  no  evil  at  all  when  the  balls 
of  the  rifleman  deal  around  the  mark,  instead  of 
upon  it.  The  traveler  often  misses  his  way,  and 
strikes  east  or  west  of  his  true  destination  to  his 
plain  great  advantage.  And,  as  to  the  rambling 
speaker,  his   ramblings  have  been  known  to  be 


INDIRECTIONS.  411 

very  useful  —  the  most  useful  part  of  his  ad- 
dresses. At  times,  however,  the  failure  to  come 
to  the  point  is  with  much  damage.  Had  Tell 
failed  to  hit  the  apple  on  his  son's  head,  he  would 
have  destroyed  both  his  son  and  himself.  Had 
Buel  failed  to  come  to  the  critical  point  of  Shiloh, 
on  the  night  of  that  fatal  Sunday,  a  whole  army 
would  have  been  sacrificed.  Had  Newton's 
teacher  failed,  on  a  certain  occasion,  to  come  to 
the  point  in  his  instructions,  the  education  of  a 
great  philosopher  would  have  been  discouraged, 
and  great  sciences  lost  to  the  world.  And  if  you 
fail  to  come  to  the  point  of  repenting  and  be- 
lieving —  however  closely  you  may  approach  it 
in  hearing,  reading,  thinking,  discussing,  resolv- 
ing —  you  will  find  it  a  very  costly  failure.  What 
with  the  evils  it  does  and  threatens,  what  with 
its  moral  sacrifices  here  and  its  dangers  of  all 
kinds  for  an  eternal  hereafter,  it  is  the  King  and 
Satan  of  all  failures.  Successful  !  how  can  you 
talk  of  success .-'  Whatever  you  have  gained, 
your  life  thus  far  has  been  a  great  and  growing 
loss.  All  earth's  gay  things  are  hollow  gaud  and 
tinsel  unless  joined  to  religion.  You  may  heap 
them  indefinitely,  and  be  never  a  whit  the  richer 
—  may  heap  them   indefinitely,  and  be  many  de- 


412  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

grees  the  poorer.  Success  in  life  consists  in 
carrying  out  life's  great  purpose  ;  and  you  do  not 
make  a  beginning  on  this  till  you  cease  beating 
about  the  suburbs  of  religion,  and  come  to  the 
point  of  entering  its  citadel.  However  indus- 
trious you  may  be,  your  time  is  all  thrown  away 
till  you  actually  repent.  Your  life  was  given  you 
that  you  may  come  and  keep  to  this  point  ;  and 
everything  short  of  this,  though  it  be  a  coming 
very  near  to  the  mark,  is  life  wasted.  And  then, 
while  you  are  busying  yourself  in  wandering 
about  the  subject,  and  coming  out  east  or  west, 
north  or  south,  of  it,  the  time  allowed  you  for 
coming  to  the  point  may  come  to  an  end.  You 
cannot  trifle  with  religion  forever.  You  cannot 
keep  up  this  skirmish  with  the  outposts  without 
losing  (perhaps  very  soon  and  suddenly)  the 
chance  of  reaching  its  central  camp.  While  you 
stand  hesitating  and  paltering,  time  is  flying,  pro- 
bation is  lessening,  a  day  longer  of  mere  hearing 
and  considering  and  intending  to  do  something 
by  and  by,  may  completely  cut  you  off  from  the 
opportunity  of  coming  to  the  point.  If  it  were  a 
common  point,  such  a  point  as  the  world  daily 
asks  us  to  come  to,  and  such  as  worldly  people 
are  daily  driving  at  on  the  straightest  lines  of  ap- 


INDIRECTIONS.  413 

proach,  it  were  not  much  to  lose  the  opportunity 
of  reaching  it.  But  this  is  not  such.  It  is  one 
which  if  you  never  come  up  centrally  to,  you  will 
never  come  to  anything  that  deserves  to  be  called 
virtue,  never  come  to  peace  with  conscience, 
never  come  to  the  favor  of  God,  never  come  to 
Heaven.  But  you  will  come  to  Hell  —  ruin  with- 
out measure  and  end.  As  the  speaker  who  allows 
himself  in  rambling  gradually  loses  the  faculty 
of  direct  and  home-thrusting  speech  —  as  the 
archer  who  allows  himself  to  shoot  with  unsteady 
aim  at  the  general  neighborhood  of  the  mark 
rather  than  at  the  mark  itself,  gradually  loses 
skill  of  eye  and  hand  for  fixing  the  reed  in  the 
center  of  the  target  —  you,  by  your  circuits  and 
circumlocutions,  are  gradually  becoming  unapt  to 
any  more  effective  dealing  with  religion.  The 
habit  of  indirection  is  fixing  itself  And  the  ruin 
to  which  this  tends  will  be  all  the  worse  for  the 
fact  that  it  will,  in  all  probablity,  involve  others  in 
it.  Your  not  coming  to  the  point  will  influence 
some  others  to  do  likewise.  Your  children,  your 
companions,  will  be  apt  to  content  themselves 
with  rambling  on  the  outskirts  of  religion  as  you 
are  doing,   and   in    deference   to    your   example. 


414  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

And  SO,  just  as  the  fall  of  one  stone  down  the 
steep  mountain  side  carries  with  it  other  loose 
stones  lying  near  it,  so  your  fall  will  carry  with  it 
that  of  relatives  and  neighbors. 


XXVII. 
THE    DEMON    OF    DELAY. 


XXVII.  . 

THE  DEMON  OF  DELAY. 

T  AM  to  speak  to  you  about  one  of  the  worst 
-*-  enemies  of  mankind.  It  is  not  the  angry 
storm  that  levels  the  harvests  and  the  dwellings. 
It  is  not  the  conflagration  that  greedily  laps  up  the 
earnings  and  lives  of  men,  and  leaves  an  ashy 
waste  where  lately  fair  homes  and  smiling  faces 
gladdened  the  sight.  It  is  not  the  pestilence  that 
swiftly  decimates  the  population,  and  fills  houses 
with  mourners  and  grave-yards  with  dead.  What 
is  it  ?  It  is  a  demon.  Not  one  of  the  demons  of 
the  Great  Pit :  but  an  earth-born  monster,  who, 
while  it  calls  Satan  father  and  king,  is  as  much 
native  to  the  fields  and  skies  of  this  world  as  any 
of  ourselves.  It  is  an  airy,  impalpable,  invisible 
giant  ;  with  cruel  phantom  features  that  mock 
while  they  murder.  It  feeds  on  human  beings. 
The  description  which  Tasso  gives  of  Satan  him- 
self would  not  be  out  of  place  for  this  his  child. 

"  No  Alpine  crag,  terrifically  grand, 
No  rock  at  sea  in  size  with  him  could  vie  ; 
27 


41 8  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Calpe  and  Atlas  soaring  from  the  sand, 

Seemed  to  his  stature  little  hills,  so  high 

Reared  he  his  horned  front  in  that  Tartarean  sky. 

His  breath  was  like  those  sulphurous  vapors  born 

In  thunder,  stench,  and  the  live-meteor's  light, 

When  red  Vesuvius  showers,  by  earthquakes  torn, 

O'er  sleeping  Naples  in  the  dead  of  night 

Funereal  ashes  —  and  like  the  gaping  tide 

Of  a  deep  whirlpool  his  grim  mouth  appeared. 

When  he  unclosed  his  jaws  with  foaming  gore  besmeared.'* 

Such  is  the  monster.     Its  name  is  To-morrow. 

When  the  claims  of  the  Gospel  are  brought  to 
men,  in  not  one  case  in  a  thousand  are  they  posi- 
tively and  finally  rejected.  They  are  simply  post- 
poned. There  is  not  the  least  idea  of  turning 
back  on  them  forever.  Till  a  certain  stress  of 
business  is  over  ;  till  certain  rounds  of  gayety  and 
pleasure  are  run  ;  till  certain  leisures,  facilities, 
opportunities,  occur  ;  till  the  world  does  not  look 
so  attractive  ;  till  I  am  old,  or  at  least  older;  till 
the  next  revival ;  till  God  pleases  to  convert  me  ; 
till  some  time  when  it  is  more  convenient,  or  more 
agreeable,  to  repent  than  it  is  now  —  it  is  some 
such  thought  that  lies  in  the  minds  of  most  per- 
sons when  they  say  to  Religion,  Go  thy  way. 
"  For  this  time,"  they  mean.  "  When  I  have  a 
convenient  season  I  will  call  for  thee  ; "  this  is 
what  they  intend.     They  are  Felixes  —  generally 


THE   DEMON  OF  DELAY.  419 

without  the  trembhng  of  Fehx  —  though  some- 
times they  postpone  amid  quakings  of  apprehen- 
sion fully  equal  to  those  which  shook  the  guilty 
governor  as  he  heard  Paul  reason  of  temperance, 
righteousness,  and  a  judgment  to  come. 

To  estimate  properly  this  postponement,  which 
in  advance  I  have  called  a  monster,  and  a  demon, 
and  Satan's  own  child,  let  certain  facts  be  weighed. 

The  risk  inain'ed. 

It  is  the  risk  of  losing  the  soul  —  the  risk  of 
losing  an  eternity  of  holiness  and  happiness, 
and  of  gaining  one  of  sin  and  misery.  This 
eternity  is  not  a  rhetorical  and  poetical  one  — 
some  very  long  period,  say  ten  thousand  years 
or  so,  which  our  fancies  dress  up  and  dignify 
with  the  great  name  of  Forever  —  but  absolutely 
and  literally  and  astonishingly,  duration  without 
end.  Nor  angel,  nor  God,  shall  see  the  day 
when  the  lost  sinner,  or  his  supreme  sufiferings, 
shall  come  to  an  end.  All  the  years  of  this  hoar 
world  ;  nay,  all  the  years  of  all  the  stars  that 
shine,  multiplied  by  all  the  atoms  found  in  crea- 
tion from  frontier  to  center,  are  the  merest  drop 
in  the  ocean  of  that  everlasting  existence  which 
the  sinner  turns  to  sin  and  woe,  if  he  happens  to 
die  before  his  set  time  for  repenting  shall  come, 
or   if  the    Holy    Ghost   leaves    him    before   that 


420  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

time.  Is  there  no  danger  of  one  or  the  other  of 
these  things  happening  ?  Sure  are  you,  of  living 
till  the  next  revival,  till  the  next  leisure,  till  that 
certain  something  which  is  going  to  make  for  you 
a  more  convenient  season  ?  Ah,  how  many  sud- 
den strokes,  how  many  unexpected  death-beds, 
mock  at  such  sureness  as  that  !  Let  the  Life 
Assurance  Companies,  with  their  tables  of  risks 
for  every  man,  teach  you  wisdom.  Some  sinners 
who  are  always  postponing  religion  could  not 
get  their  lives  insured  for  a  year  in  any  sound 
company,  at  any  rate  of  premium.  Besides  the 
chances  of  dying  before  the  set  time  comes,  be- 
sides the  chances  that  before  that  time  the  Holy 
Spirit  will  be  finally  grieved  away,  there  are  the 
chances  (let  us  say  the  great  probability)  that  if 
the  sinner  reaches  unreprobated  the  time  he  has 
postponed  to,  he  will  postpone  again,  and  again, 
and  again,  till  postponement  becomes  a  habit ; 
and,  at  last  — the  door  is  shut.  Suddenly  like  the 
levin  from  a  clear  sky,  the  bolt  falls  and  all  is 
over.  Never  more  strives  that  Holy  Ghost. 
Perhaps  life  itself  has  drawn  its  last  breath,  and 
eternity  has  begun.  The  soul  from  out  its  fires 
looks  back  on  a  probation  forever  gone,  looks  up 
toward  a  Heaven  forever  lost. 


THE   DEMON  OF  DELA  Y.  42  I 

SucJi  risk  inctcrred  for  no  correspondmg  advan- 
tage. 

To  take  risks  is  nothing  unusual  for  wise  men. 
It  is  almost  always  the  condition  of  gains.  But 
then  there  should  be  something  to  take  the  risk 
for.  The  advantage  to  be  gained  should  bear 
some  proportion  to  the  greatness  of  the  risk.  No 
wise  man  willingly  takes  risks  for  nothing.  No 
wise  man  willingly  takes  enormous  risks  for  the 
sake  of  trifling  and  doubtful  advantage.  What 
advantage  does  the  sinner  have  in  view  by  that 
postponement  which  risks  his  soul  }  Is  it  some- 
thing which  if  gotten  will  pay  for  such  a  huge 
danger  .''  Is  it  really  any  advantage  at  all  —  any- 
thing that  deserves  to  be  called  by  that  honorable 
name  !  The  pleasures  (so  called)  of  sin  for  a  sea- 
son —  mixed  up  with  so  many  bitter  remorses  and 
penalties  and  fears  that  one  feels  all  the  while  that 
the  way  of  trangessors  is  hard,  and  that  the  wicked 
are  like  the  troubled  sea  which  cannot  rest,  whose 
waters  cast  up  mire  and  dirt  — this  on  the 
one  hand  as  the  consideration,  and  the  risk  of  a 
ruined  eternity  on  the  other  for  an  outlay !  Will 
this  do  .''  I  challenge  you  to  show  a  man,  not 
lunatic  nor  idiot,  from  the  birth  of  time  till  now, 
who  would  consent   in  matters  of   this  world    to 


422  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

anything  like  such  disproportion  between  the 
hazard  taken  and  the  consideration  offered.  The 
consideration  is  a  mere  mote.  It  is  so  small  I 
cannot  see  it.  It  is  one  of  those  doubly-refined 
nothings,  one  of  those  zeros  of  the  thousandth 
grade,  which  mathematicians  speak  of,  but  which 
they  always  cast  out  of  their  calculation.  Surely 
Satan  himself  must  wonder  at  the  amazing  cheap- 
ness at  which  he  is  able  to  buy  immortal  souls. 
It  astonishes  Heaven  —  I  think  it  must  astonish 
Hell.  The  most  shocking  and  at  the  same  time 
the  most  ridiculous,  of  all  bargains  !  That  famous 
transaction  in  which  Esau  for  one  morsel  of  meat 
sold  his  birthright  gives  just  the  phantom  of  a 
shadow  of  a  shade  of  this  case.  That  was  real 
meat  though  but  a  morsel.  That  was  but  an 
eartJdy  inheritance,  though  it  was  Abraham's. 
"  Be  astonished,  O  ye  heavens,  at  this,  and  be  hor- 
ribly afraid  ;  for  my  people  have  committed  two 
evnls  ;  they  have  forsaken  me,  the  fountain  of  liv- 
ing waters  ;  and  have  hewed  them  out  cisterns, 
broken  cisterns,  that  can  hold  no  water  "  —  that 
is  to  say,  they  have  parted  with  the  greatest  im- 
aginable good  for  the  smallest  imaginable,  for 
mere  emptiness. 

No  one  can  afford  to  risk  his  all  for  anything 


THE   DEMON  OF  DELAY.  423 

—  much  less  for  nothing.  It  is  understood  among 
business  men  to  be  a  sound  maxim  never  to  em- 
bark a  whole  estate  in  a  single  venture,  however 
great  the  temptation  may  be.  "  Use  only  such 
sums  in  speculation  as  you  can  afiford  to  lose. 
Keep  the  bulk  of  your  interests  on  solid  ground. 
Never  allow  yourself  to  be  betrayed  by  any  flat- 
tering appearances  into  putting  all  you  have  in 
the  world  to  hazard."  It  is  thus  men  counsel  each 
other.  Does  the  man  act  on  this  sound  principle 
who,  by  postponing  repentance,  puts  his  soul  and 
eternity  in  jeopardy .-'  His  soul  and  eternity  are 
his  all.  What  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for 
his  soul !  If  that  is  wrecked  he  is  a  total  wreck. 
No  one  can  afford  to  risk  that  great  estate  for 
anything  beneath  the  azure  heaven  —  much  less 
for  a  trifle,  much  less  for  so  empty  and  bitter  a 
nothing  as  the  so-called  pleasures  of  sin  for  a 
season.  They  have  no  substance  to  them.  They 
are  a  proved  cheat  of  the  Great  Adversary.  And 
what  the  sinner  actually  gets  by  his  postponement, 
often,  is  not  so  much  the  sinful  pleasures  them- 
selves, empty  as  they  are,  as  a  lying  promise  of 
them.  Satan  promises  him  a  morsel  of  meat,  but 
at  last  cheats  him  out  of  both  that  and  Paradise 

—  Paradise,  that  glorious  birthright  of  his.     Men 


424  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

cannot  afford  to  deal  after  such  an  amazing  and 
destructive  fashion, 

A  I'isk  so  plain  in  itself,  and  to  ivJiich  the  sin- 
ners attetition  is  so  loudly  called. 

Is  it  at  all  obscure  that  the  postponer  of  religion 
does  jeopardize  his  soul  and  eternity  ?  I  could 
count  you  out  scores,  not  to  say  hundreds,  of  pas- 
sages in  the  Scriptures  that  so  affirm  or  imply  it 
that  they  have  compelled  for  it  almost  universal 
belief  throughout  the  Christendom  of  every  age 
on  which  history  or  tradition  throws  light.  It  is 
hard  to  say  what  is  plainly  taught  in  the  Bible  if 
not  that  sinners  are  in  a  perishing  condition,  from 
which  repentance  and  faith  alone  can  raise  them 
—  that  as  long  as  one  remains  impenitent  he  is  a 
'  child  of  wrath '  and  an  '  heir  of  death  '  —  that  if 
he  dies  in  his  sins  he  will  '  lift  up  his  eyes  in  tor- 
ment and  find  an  impassable  gulf  separating  him 
from  Heaven.'  It  is  a  fact  in  which  all  the  great 
Christian  Denominations  are  agreed  that  this  life 
is  man's  only  probation  —  that  if  in  any  way  he 
allows  it  to  slip  unchristianized  through  his  hands 
there  is  nothing  but  ruin  beyond  ;  nothing  but 
to  be  "  punished  with  everlasting  destruction  from 
the  presence  of  the  Lord  and  the  glory  of  His 
power."     God  has  taken  care  that  a  fact  so  im- 


THE   DEMON  OF  DELAY.  425 

portant  should  be  plainly  written  out ;  and  that, 
not  once  nor  twice  nor  thrice,  but  a  hundred 
times.  He  meant  to  have  it  clear  to  the  poorest 
grade  of  sight  ;  and  He  has  made  it  so.  Not  in- 
deed so  plain  that  every  one  must  see  it  {for  that 
would  have  been  impossible),  but  so  plain  that 
every  one  ought  to  see  it  without  the  slightest 
trouble.  And  He  has,  if  possible,  made  it  still 
more  plain  that  there  is  no  man  alive  who  can 
aiford  to  take  the  risk  of  so  tremendous  a  loss  as 
that  of  the  soul,  for  any  consideration  whatever  ; 
for  Satan's  most  magnificent  promises,  and,  what 
is  a  very  different  thing,  his  performances  ;  for 
all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  the  glory  of 
them  —  that,  much  less  is  there  a  living  man  who 
can  afford  to  take  such  a  risk  for  such  a  bitter  and 
beggarly  nothing  as  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  sea- 
son. To  whom  is  this  not  the  plainest  of  plain 
things  .''  It  flames  out  in  the  convictions  of  man- 
kind beyond  all  possibility  of  denial  or  doubt. 
Still,  to  do  the  very  best  for  the  truth  and  the 
sinner,  that  the  case  admits  of,  God  is  always  re- 
minding the  sinner  of  the  plain  fact  of  the  mighty 
risk  attending  his  postponements  ;  also  of  the  still 
plainer  fact  that  he  cannot  afiford  a  venture  so 
extravagantly  enormous,  especially  with    nothing 


426  PARISH  CHNISTIAMTY. 

but  a  painted  cipher  for  compensation.  He  re- 
freshes his  memory  sabbath  by  sabbath.  He 
prompts  him  on  the  subject  in  sermons,  in  exhor- 
tations, in  books,  in  prayers,  in  hymns,  in  provi- 
dences, in  secret  strivings  of  the  Holy  Ghost  — 
prompts  him  morning,  noon,  and  night.  If  God 
can  help  it,  the  plain  truth  shall  not  lie  asleep  in 
him.  He  shall  see  it  earnestly  facing  him  and 
pleading  with  him  at  every  turn.  So  does  he  see 
it.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  times  a  year  he 
sees  these  solemn  ideas  flitting  across  his  field  of 
view.  Sometimes,  like  Balaam's  angel,  they  block 
up  the  path  of  his  postponements  as  with  drawn 
swords  in  their  hands.  "  Go  forward  if  you  dare," 
say  they.  "  Turn  back,  rash  mortal,"  say  they, 
"  if  you  value  your  life.  Do  you  want  to  be  smit- 
ten and  perish  everlastingly."  And  the  sheen  of 
those  brandished  weapons  carries  fears  and  trem- 
blings to  his  heart. 

Under  such  circumstances  it  is  that  sinners 
make  their  postponements  of  religion.  Behold  a 
speculation  in  which  everything  is  risked  on  the 
one  side  for  nothing  on  the  other  !  What  shall 
we  say  of  it  .^  What  can  we  say  of  it  that  is  not 
full  of  disrespect  and  censure  .-•  It  is  madness 
against  reason  —  against  almost  everything  save 


THE  DEMON  OE  DELAY.  427 

general  example  and  native  depravity.  It  is  the 
most  extravagant  venture  the  creation  of  God  ever 
saw. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  monster  of  procrastination. 
I  have  even  called  it  a  demon  —  it  is  so  vastly 
illusive,  monstrous,  and  destructive.  Though 
earth-born,  it  lives  from  generation  to  generation 
with  unabated  vitality.  The  combat  with  it  which 
the  servants  of  God  wage  is  a  combat  with  a  phan- 
tom. Blows  and  swords  seem  to  pass  through  it 
without  wounding.  Not  so  its  strokes.  The 
phantom  sword  which  it  waves  draws  life-blood  in 
every  direction.  It  is  the  Moloch  of  Christendom  .? 
If  any  other  enemy  of  Christ  and  man  among  us 
has  slain  its  thousands,  this  red-handed  Postpone- 
ment has  slain  its  ten  thousands.  It  is  now  slay- 
ing greedily  in  every  parish  of  the  land.  And  yet 
the  stroke  is  so  noiseless,  so  phantom-like,  that 
men  scarcely  notice  the  destruction  that  is  taking 
place.  Are  you  another  Felix,  saying  to  Religion, 
"  Go  thy  way  for  this  time  ;  when  I  have  a  con- 
venient season  I  will  call  for  thee  .-*  "  Are  you  one 
of  these  enormous  risk-takers  for  nothing,  and  less 
than  nothing  —  while  the  warnings  of  Scripture 
and  of  the  Holy  Ghost  are  ever  pealing  like  fire- 
bells  in  your  ears  .''     Do  not  let  the  slaughter  go 


428  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

on  quite  to  its  consummation.  Do  not  let  the  de- 
mon triumph  over  you  to  the  very  article  of  death. 
You  have  dallied  enough  with  such  mighty  risks 
—  have  done  with  it.  Let  the  ruinous  experience 
of  others  satisfy  you  without  your  going  further. 
For  years  you  have  been  postponing  religion 
against  the  commonest  rules  of  prudence,  nay  in 
defiance  of  them  ;  hanging  your  eternity  on  this 
little  thread  of  your  life  which  is  every  moment 
getting  more  slender  and  brittle.  Have  you  not 
done  enough  of  such  terrible  venturing.?  The 
time  is  coming  —  will  be  upon  you  ere  you  are 
aware  —  when  your  hazard  of  ruin  will  suddenly 
turn  to  a  certainty  of  it.  Instead  of  being  told 
simply  that  there  is  great  danger  of  destruction, 
you  will  awake  to  the  conviction  that  it  is  too  late 
to  escape  it.  The  ruin  so  long  impending,  so  long 
toyed  with,  has  actually  fallen.  The  soul  is  lost. 
Instead  of  being  now  a  case  of  mysterious  and 
awful  speculation  in  which  an  eternity  is  wagered 
against  a  painted  straw,  it  is  a  case  of  mysterious 
and  awful  catastrophe  in  which  both  the  eternity 
and  the  straw  are  actually  sacrificed.  What  fiery 
tempests  toss  you  now }  What  self-accusings, 
what  unbounded  regrets,  what  despairing  wonder 
over  past  rashness  and  present  ruin,  what  agoniz- 


THE  DEMON  OF  DELA  Y.  429 

ing  measurements  of  a  slowly  uncoiling  forever  un- 
gilded  by  a  single  ray  of  hope  ?  My  friend  !  thank 
God  that  this  time  has  not  yet  quite  come.  There 
is  still  one  opportunity  of  salvation  left.  Let  not 
the  murderous  demon,  whose  name  is  To-morrow, 
cheat  you  out  of  that.  "  To-day,  if  you  will  hear 
His  voice,  harden  not  your  heart." 


XXVIII. 

CONSOLIDATION   OF   SINFUL 
CHARACTER. 


XXVIII. 

CONSOLIDATION     OF     SINFUL     CHAR- 
ACTER. 

T  ET  me  call  your  attention  to  one  of  the  most 
-■ — '  interesting  facts  connected  with  human  nat- 
ure, and  one  of  the  most  important  in  its  bearings 
on  our  religious  interests.  I  mean  the  gradual 
consolidation  of  character  as  we  advance  in  life. 
And  this  whether  the  character  be  good  or  bad. 
If  good,  it  is  every  day  getting  firmer  fiber,  and 
deeper  root ;  and  if  bad,  not  a  day  passes  but  sees 
it  laying  hold  of  the  soil  of  the  heart  with  new 
rootlets,  and  shooting  upward  a  heavier  and  hard- 
ier growth.  You  can  cut  it  down  with  less  sweat 
and  dulling  of  your  steel  now  than  you  can  to- 
morrow. You  can  pry  it  out  of  its  place  with  less 
of  strain  and  delay  and  broken  levers  at  this  mo- 
ment than  you  can  a  week  hence. 

I  will  at  present  limit  myself  to  one  section  of 
this  general  fact  —  to  the  gradual  consolidation 
and  growth  of  a  bad  character. 

At  the  outset,  you  will  notice  as  a  fact  open  to 
28 


434  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

all  eyes  that  there  are  at  least  some  characters 
which  are  continually  sinking,  sinking,  to  the  very 
end  of  life.  Who  is  this  man  swinging  from  the 
gallows  ?  Why,  it  is  the  boy  of  many  years  ago 
of  whom  his  neighbors  knew  little  save  that  he 
was  an  idle  and  ill-governed  lad.  As  he  grew 
older  he  was  occasionally  heard  of  as  mischievous, 
vulgar,  and  truant.  Then,  by  degrees,  he  became 
known  as  a  sabbath-breaker,  foul-mouthed,  inso- 
lent, and  profane  ;  perhaps  dishonest  in  a  small 
way.  After  a  while,  it  was  told  one  morning  that 
he  had  disappeared  from  his  home  and  gone  to 
sea ;  and  nobody,  save  his  parents,  was  sorry,  for 
the  place  would  be  better  without  him.  Once 
abroad,  he  plunged  into  bolder  and  larger  vice, 
gradually  passed  to  be  a  ringleader  among  the 
bad,  grew  from  year  to  year  more  insubordinate, 
irregular,  fierce,  and  careless  of  God  and  man  ; 
until  at  last,  a  bloody  pirate,  he  became  the  ter- 
ror of  the  seas,  and  it  was  necessary  to  hunt  him 
down  like  a  wild  beast.  And  this  is  he  dangling 
by  the  neck  —  never  so  bad  as  he  was  the  day 
he  died. 

Enter  any  one  of  a  thousand  houses  in  a  great 
city,  and  you  will  find  a  person  all  eaten  up  by 
vice,  who,  if  you  could  follow  back  his  history  to 


CONSOLIDATION  OF  SINFUL    CHARACTER.     435 

the  beginning,  would  be  seen  to  have  reached  his 
present  depths  by  a  gradual  subsidence  of  his 
character  from  the  plane  of  respectability,  without 
any  perceptible  break  of  improvement  or  even  rest 
—  always  sinking,  sinking,  like  some  island  of  vol- 
canic base  which  each  year  settles  a  few  inches 
into  the  waters,  until  at  last  the  highest  point  dis- 
appears from  sight,  and  slimy  sea-monsters  peo- 
ple its  caves  and  homes. 

That  there  are  many  instances  of  this  kind  will 
be  readily  granted.  But  are  they  as  many  as  there 
are  bad  characters  in  the  world  '^.  Do  all  bad 
characters  keep  going  down,  down,  just  as  long  as 
they  are  held  —  not  a  moment  of  upward  move- 
ment, not  even  a  moment  of  standing  still  ;  though 
in  many  cases  making  no  such  profound  de- 
scents as  those  just  described  .-'  "  How  can  this 
be  !  Some  characters,  I  must  admit,  do  seem  to 
go  down  in  this  way  from  bad  to  worse  without 
cessation.  But  there  are  multitudes  of  sinners 
whom  I  have  known,  in  whom,  as  years  passed 
away,  I  could  make  out  no  change  for  the  worse. 
I  have  known  them  ten,  twenty,  forty  years,  and 
they  are  not  yet  Christians  ;  but  I  am  not  able  to 
make  out  that  in  any  respect  they  are  morally  at 
a  lower  point  than  they  were  that  long  time  ago. 


436  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Besides,  I  am  consciously  not  a  Christian  myself, 
but  I  am  not  conscious  of  having  grown  any  worse 
for  a  number  of  years.  It  seems  to  me  that,  at 
least,  I  am  no  further  from  religion  than  I  was 
twenty  years  since.  My  life,  for  aught  I  can  see, 
is  as  fair,  and  my  heart  as  awake  and  friendly  to 
good  things,  as  it  ever  was.  In  a  word,  if  I  can 
trust  my  observation  and  consciousness,  there  are 
persons,  and  these  a  large  part  of  Christian  com- 
munities, whose  characters  are  impenitent  and  so 
in  a  gospel  sense  bad,  but  who  yet  are  not  subject 
to  that  constant  decline  which  is  claimed." 

My  friend  !  do  you  conclude  that  the  steam  is 
not  increasing  in  this  stout  iron  boiler,  because,  for 
a  long  time,  there  is  no  change  in  its  appearance 
to  you  standing  half  across  the  room  .-*  If  you 
were  a  skilled  engineer,  and  stood  close  to  the 
vessel,  you  might  perhaps  be  able  to  detect  some 
signs  that  the  white  vapor  within  is  every  moment 
getting  more  dense  and  destructive  :  but,  as  it  is, 
you  see  not  the  least  sign  of  such  progress.  The 
fires  glow  behind  the  wall,  the  vapor  forms,  the 
energy  within  strains  and  rages  more  and  more ; 
but  to  you  the  dull  inclosing  metal  looks  as  dull 
and  unstrained  as  ever.  Now,  character  is  wholly 
an  inward  thing.     It  is  strongly  girded  in  by  the 


CONSOLIDATION  OF  SINFUL    CHARACTER.       437 

body,  and  social  rules,  and  barriers  of  respectabil- 
ity. And,  standing  as  you  do  at  a  distance,  and 
looking  as  you  do  only  on  the  outward  with  a  no 
very  skilled  spiritual  discernment,  it  is  not  strange 
that  you  should  fail  to  see  signs  of  the  increase  of 
the  moral  evil,  though  that  increase  is  constant. 

Further.  You  say  that  your  impenitent  neigh- 
bor looks  as  fairly  to  you  as  he  did  twenty  years 
ago.  Are  you  sure  that  your  memory  serves  you 
well  in  regard  to  that  distant  period  "i  It  may  be 
that  you  can  recall  nothing  but  some  vague  gen- 
eralities of  fact  and  impression  ;  and  that  many 
details,  many  subtle  shades  and  odors  manifestive 
of  character  which  then  hovered  about  the  man's 
daily  life,  have  quite  gone  from  your  thought. 
That  you  may  fairly  compare  the  present  and  the 
past  you  must  know  the  past.  And,  if  you  say 
that  your  memory  has  to  do  rather  with  the  judg- 
ment you  formed  at  that  past  time  than  with  the 
facts  on  which  the  judgment  was  based  ;  and  that, 
though  the  facts  are  largely  forgotten,  the  single 
impression  you  took  from  them  is  as  clear  as  if 
taken  yesterday,  then  I  ask  you  to  consider  an- 
other fact.  According  to  the  doctrine  in  question, 
your  standard  of  moral  judgment  has  been  chang- 
ing  continually.     You    judged    the   man   twenty 


438  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

years  ago  by  a  very  different  and  truer  standard 
than  you  use  upon  him  now.  Being  an  impenitent 
sinner  yourself,  you  have  sunk  in  character  about 
as  fast  as  he  has.  Going  down  yourself,  you  have 
carried  down  with  you  the  rule  by  which  moral 
things  are  measured.  A  given  sin  seems  smaller 
to  you  than  it  did  years  ago  :  a  greater  sin  seems 
only  as  large.  So  when  you  come  to  measure  the 
changed  character  by  a  changed  rule  you  are  sen- 
sible of  no  alteration.  The  proportions  of  things 
are  preserved.  The  difference  of  level  between 
your  character  and  his  remains  the  same.  So  no 
change  in  his  character  appears  to  you.  So  none 
appears  to  the  man  himself.  He  has  the  same 
changed  standard  to  measure  by  that  you  have  ; 
and  when  he  looks  about  on  his  neighbors  he  sees 
himself  as  high  in  respect  to  most  of  them  as  he 
ever  was.  Shall  he  presume  to  say  that  his  de- 
pravity has  not  grown  } 

Let  him  go  out  to-morrow  into  some  young 
wood,  and  look  about  him.  Let  him  pluck  a  wil- 
low branch,  and  apply  it  as  a  measure  to  such  tree 
as  he  may  choose.  How  much  do  you  say  } 
Once  and  so  much  over  ?  Now  force  an  end  of 
the  branch  into  the  soft,  damp  earth  and  leave  it. 
Next   spring   the   dry   stick   will   put  out   roots, 


CONSOLIDATION  OF  SINFUL    CHARACTER.      439 

and  grow  as  only  willows  by  the  water-courses 
can  —  as  fast  as  any  well-planted  tree  in  that 
wood.  For  all  those  trees  will  grow  ;  and,  being 
of  the  same  kind  and  in  the  same  influences 
of  soil  and  air,  sun  and  rain,  they  will  all  grow 
about  equally  fast.  Accordingly,  when,  after  years 
have  gone,  you  again  come  among  them,  you  find 
no  change  in  their  proportions  in  respect  to  each 
other  :  and  when  you  have  pulled  up  by  the  roots 
your  old  measuring  rod,  now  well-grown,  and 
have  applied  it  to  the  same  tree  as  before,  you 
still  find  it  measuring  out,  "once  and  so  much 
over,"  just  as  at  the  first.  What  then  .''  Will  you 
declare  that  through  all  these  years  the  tree  has 
not  grown  a  particle  t  Will  you  forget  that  your 
willow  has  grown,  and  that  all  the  trees  have 
grown,  and  that  relative  rest  is  not  inconsistent 
with  absolute  progress  .-' 

The  more  we  think  of  it  the  less  inclined  we 
shall  be  to  doubt  that  a  man  may  alter  very 
greatly  for  the  worse  in  respect  to  character,  and 
yet  be  himself  altogether  unconscious  of  the  fact. 
Is  there  anything  better  known  than  that  vices 
are  apt  to  lose  something  of  their  first  look  of 
enormity  by  practice,  or  even  by  familiarity } 
How  soon  will  the  profanity,  which  at  first  hearing 


440  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

shocks  the  well-taught  child,  seem  a  small  thing  to 
him,  if  he  continues  hearing  it  !  Very  likely  he 
almost  trembles  when  he  utters  his  first  oath. 
But  a  short  practice  will  make  him  think  very 
lightly  of  that  kind  of  sin.  When  you  first  step 
out  into  the  dark,  how  very  dark  it  is  !  Only  stay 
out  a  while,  however,  and  you  lose  much  of  that 
painful  sense  of  obscurity.  And  yet  it  is  really  as 
dark  as  it  ever  was  —  nay  darker,  for  since  you 
came  out  clouds  have  come  to  cover  the  whole 
sky.  When  you  first  enter  a  sick-room,  how  sen- 
sible you  are  of  the  bad  air  !  Only  stay  a  while 
and  the  fevered  smell  will  disappear.  Why  } 
Because  there  is  less  virus  in  the  air  than  when 
you  entered  it }  Nay,  the  air  is  worse  than  ever  — 
only  you  are  getting  used  to  it.  A  man  brought 
up  in  Birmingham  does  not  perceive  that  the  city 
is  more  cloudy  and  sooty  and  badly  scented  than 
it  was  forty  years  ago :  and  yet  many  times 
the  old  number  of  furnaces  are  belching  out 
night  and  day  their  clouds  of  cinders  and  smoke 
with  pestilent  gases.  His  senses  grow  blunt  just 
as  fast  as  the  air  grows  corrupt.  How  credible 
then  is  it  that  a  person  living  in  sin  may  not 
notice  an  increase  of  sin  within  him,  even  though 
that  increase  is  very  great !     His  conscience  and 


CONSOLIDATION  OF  SliYFUL    CHARACTER.      44 1 

consciousness  gradual],y  accommodate  themselves 
to  the  increasing  corruption.  Though  his  dark- 
ness, and  fever-air,  and  Birmingham,  are  at  this 
moment  worse  than  ever,  lie  is  quite  ignorant  of 
the  change  —  even  thinks,  perhaps,  that  on  the 
whole  his  character  is  gradually  gaining. 

He  may  be  encouraged  in  this  view  of  his  case 
by  the  fact  that  he  finds  himself  less  attached  than 
formerly  to  certain  particular  forms  of  sin  which 
he  could  mention,  and  has  even  broken  off  entirely 
from  some  one  or  more  of  them.  With  much  sat- 
isfaction he  reflects  that  since  he  was  a  young 
man  he  has  left  off  some  bad  habits  :  he  has  be- 
come more  industrious,  less  devoted  to  pleasure, 
less  passionate.  Perhaps  he  can  point  to  some 
great  vice  that  he  has  quite  put  away.  Perhaps 
he  can  challenge  the  community  whether  he  is  not 
a  more  useful  and  properly-conducted  person  by 
far  than  he  once  was.  And  so  he  may  flatter 
himself  that,  on  the  whole,  his  character  has 
gained  ;  though  he  feels  that  as  yet  he  has  had 
no  positively  Christian  experience.  Without  de- 
nying, but  on  the  contrary  affirming,  that  all  these 
changes  are  excellent  things,  still  it  is  easily  seen 
that  they  warrant  no  such  inference  as  is  drawn 
from   them.     Cannot   you   cut   off  one    or   more 


442  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

branches  from  a  tree,  and  y.et  have  the  tree  grow- 
ing all  the  while  ?  You  may  even  cut  away  a 
whole  side  of  limbs,  and  yet  have  that  tree  getting 
more  solid  of  fiber  and  strong  of  root  every  mo- 
ment. So  you  may  lop  off  particular  faults  of 
character  to  a  large  extent  without  stopping  the 
growth  of  that  which  is  the  main  trunk  of  your 
depravity.  The  fear  of  God  may  be  getting  less 
and  less,  while  the  fear  of  man  is  getting  greater 
and  greater.  Your  indifference  to  duty  may  be 
getting  more  set  and  stony,  though  your  regard 
to  health,  comfort,  and  the  good  opinion  of  society 
may  be  on  the  increase,  and  di^awing  you  to  pre- 
fer a  more  quiet  and  reputable  style  of  sinning. 
Many  particular  reforms  are  merely  substitutions 
of  one  kind  of  sin  for  another,  just  as  destructiv^e 
in  its  bearings  on  the  Divine  Government,  though 
less  immediately  pernicious  to  men. 

But  look  at  the  positive  evidence.  And  first 
there  is  the  plain  and  broad  Scripture,  Evil  men 
%vax  worse  and  ivorse.  Even  as  the  good  go  from 
strength  to  strength  till  they  appear  in  Zion  be- 
fore God,  even  as  the  path  of  the  just  is  like  the 
shining  light  shining  more  and  more  to  the  per- 
fect day  ;  just  so  there  is  a  steady  movement  on 
the  part  of  sinners  downward. 


CONSOLIDATION  OF  SINFUL    CHARACTER.       443 

If  we  choose  to  take  a  step  further  and  appeal 
to  observatiorr,  we  at  once  find  there  are  natural 
laws  in  force  which  cannot  but  secure  a  gradual 
sinking  of  character  in  the  case  of  every  sinner,  as 
long  as  he  clings  to  his  sins.  It  is  a  law  as  po- 
tent and  resistless  as  that  which  binds  the  planets 
in  their  orbits,  that  every  mental  principle  grows 
by  action.  The  understanding  grows  by  action  : 
so  do  memory  and  imagination  and  the  emotional 
nature  :  and  so  do  unbelief  and  selfishness  and 
indifference  to  God  and  alienation  of  heart  from 
the  truth.  Whatever  be  that  thing  in  the  soul 
which  you  consider  to  be  the  last  essence  of  sin 
—  that  principle,  by  a  law  of  nature  just  as  sure  in 
its  operation  as  that  which  carries  a  free  stone  to 
the  ground,  will  fasten  itself  upon  you  with  new 
firmness  with  every  new  exercise.  And  the 
growth  and  consolidation  must  also,  from  the 
nature  of  the  case,  be  a  constantly  accelerated 
one.  When  a  stone  falls  to  the  earth  it  does  not 
pass  over  equal  spaces  in  equal  times,  but  keeps 
going  ever  faster  and  faster.  A  sinful  heart  moves 
downward  after  the  same  manner  —  ever  faster 
and  faster.  The  exercise  strengthens  the  deprav- 
ity, and  the  stronger  the  depravity  the  more  it 
exercises   itself,   and    the  more  the  exercise  the 


444  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

greater  the  growth.  In  addition  to  this  law  of  ex- 
ercise there  is  another  law  contributing  to  the 
same  result.  Whatever  gratification  is  abnormal 
becomes  less  and  less  easily  produced  by  the 
means  first  used.  The  spices  that  stimulate  the 
appetite  to  unnatural  edge  you  must  keep  con- 
stantly increasing  if  you  would  continue  the  same 
amount  of  effect.  The  child  who  uses  them  freely 
will  require  to  use  them  enormously  when  he  has 
grown  into  a  man.  Just  so  the  gratification  pe- 
culiar to  sin  keeps  requiring  more  and  more  sin 
for  its  production.  As  the  measure  of  intoxicat- 
ing liquor  which  pleasantly  excites  the  tippler  to- 
day must  be  doubled  a  few  years  hence  to  secure 
an  equal  excitement  —  as  the  measure  of  gain 
which  now  delights  the  worldling  must  be  in- 
creased, perhaps  many  fold,  to  give  him  equal 
pleasure  after  pursuit  of  gain  for  a  life-time  —  as 
the  measure  of  retaliation  which  now  gives  a  dis- 
mal satisfaction  to  a  revengeful  man  must  be 
greatly  increased  to  satisfy  him  equally  after  his 
mind  has  long  hardened  in  the  practice  of  revenge 
—  so,  whatever  the  sinful  gratification  you  choose, 
you  cannot  keep  it  at  a  given  level  without  in- 
creasing the  amount  of  that  sort  of  sinning  on 
which  it  depends.  The  craving  for  the  forbidden 
indulgence  grows  ever  stronger,  but  the  pleasure 


CONSOLIDATION  OF  SINFUL    CHARACTER.      ,^45 

of  yielding  to  it  becomes  ever  weaker :  so  that 
you  are  ever  being  driven  forward  on  intenser  and 
still  intenser,  as  well  as  more  frequent,  acts  of  the 
sin.  Keep  on,  and  by  the  force  of  this  law  you 
will  do  as  many  transgressions  in  a  day  as  you  are 
now  doing  in  a  month  or  a  year,  and  they  will  be 
spiced  with  a  sharper  quality  of  depravity. 

If  your  ox,  or  your  horse,  has  a  bad  habit,  the 
older  he  is  the  less  hope  you  have  of  breaking  him 
of  it.  If  the  animal  has  seen  but  a  single  year, 
almost  anybody  would  undertake  to  cure  him  ; 
but  if  he  has  seen  twenty  years  of  biting,  jumping, 
stumbling,  who  will  care  to  undertake  the  task 
then  .''—Take  your  child  to  a  teacher  and  ask  him 
to  correct  a  bad  gait  and  pronunciation.  "  How 
old  is  he  }  "  "  Only  ten."  Oh  yes,  he  will  un- 
dertake it,  and  will  even  engage  to  bring  him  back 
to  you,  after  a  few  months,  erectly  walking  and 
pleasantly  speaking.  But  if,  instead  of  that  sup- 
ple child,  you  should  take  with  you  a  bronzed  man 
who  for  sixty  years  has  had  the  same  unfortunate 
habits — would  the  master  of  calisthenics  and 
elocution  make  you  any  promises  then  ?  He  will 
try  ;  perhaps  some  improvement  can  be  effected  ; 
but,  as  to  any  great  changes,  he  is  afraid  the  man 
is  too  far  gone  in  life  for  them.  —  It  will  not 
greatly  disturb  you  if  you  find  your  little  boy,  just 


446  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

entered  of  school,  somewhat  superficial  in  his  stud- 
ies. You  have  faith  that  a  reasonable  effort  on 
your  part  will  break  up  the  fault.  But  should  that 
son  pass  through  the  district  school,  the  academy, 
the  college,  the  professional  school,  and  then  you 
some  day  wake  up  to  the  fact  that  he  never  goes 
to  the  marrow  of  any  subject,  but  is  a  mere  desul- 
tory dealer  about  the  surface  of  things,  you 
would  need  a  brave  heart  to  set  about  reforming 
his  way  of  study  at  that  stage. 

And  now  it  is  but  this  wide-spread  law,  every- 
where recognized  and  acted  on,  that  the  Scrip- 
tures ask  us  to  regard  as  ruling  the  vioral  world. 
Bad  principles  in  the  heart,  sinful  traits  in  the  life, 
like  bad  bodily  or  intellectual  habits,  consolidate 
and  strengthen  with  time,  and  become  continually 
harder  to  remove.  The  rock  now  but  paste  is 
gradually  cooling  into  granite  —  the  iron  now  soft 
and  flexile  by  heat  of  youth  and  Gospel  is  gradu- 
ally absorbing  the  dark  particles  which  harden  it 
into  steel.  Take  warning,  man  —  you  who  are 
looking  forward  to  a  distant  time  when  it  will  be 
far  easier  than  it  is  now  to  turn  from  your  sins. 
Will  God  suspend  in  your  favor  the  laws  of  Nat- 
ure }  Methinks  I  see  that  distant  time,  which 
is  to  do  so  much  for  you,  come,  and  lo,  you  are 
dead,  or,  if  not  dead,  a  stone  ! 


XXIX. 

NO  SACRIFICE  TOO  GREAT  FOR 
RELIGION. 


XXIX. 

NO    SACRIFICE    TOO   GREAT   FOR   RE- 
LIGION. 

T  T  is  not  uncommon  for  people  to  use,  in  regard 
-■-  to  one  thing  and  another,  such  expressions  as 
the  following :  It  is  not  worth  what  it  costs. 
He  paid  too  dearly  for  it.  It  costs  more  than 
it  comes  to.  It  is  too  expensive  ;  I  cannot  af- 
ford it.  I  cannot  go  beyond  that  price  ;  it  is  all 
the  thing  is  worth  to  me.  Need  I  say  that  such 
language  as  this  cannot  properly  be  used  by  any 
person  in  regard  to  religion  f  It  may  cost  you 
very  much  to  become  a  truly  regenerate  and 
Christian  person  :  but  of  this  be  assured  that 
it  cannot  cost  you  so  much  but  that,  when  the 
balance  is  struck,  you  will  be  found  infinitely  the 
gainer. 

The  time  has  been  when  men  have  been  called 
on  to  sacrifice  the  dearest  ties  for  the  sake  of  re- 
ligion. When  Adam  found  that  Eve  had  eaten 
the  forbidden  fruit  he  was  at  once  put  on  deciding 
whether  he  would  separate  their  lots  in  life.  He 
29 


450  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

had  to  choose  between  his  companion  and  his  re- 
ligion. —  When  God  said  to  Abram  in  Haran, 
"  Get  thee  out  of  thy  country  and  from  thy  kin- 
dred and  from  thy  father's  house  into  a  land  that 
I  will  show  thee,"  He  put  the  patriarch  under 
the  necessity  of  choosing  between  his  country 
and  relatives  and  friends  on  the  one  hand,  and  his 
obedience  to  God  on  the  other.  It  was  a  great 
sacrifice  to  make,  but  Abram  concluded  to  give 
up  the  ties  of  home  and  country  and  to  keep  his 
religion.  Still  later,  he  was  called  to  consider 
whether  he  would  not  make  a  still  greater  sacrifice 
in  the  same  behalf.  Said  God  to  him,  Sacrifice 
thy  son  Isaac  to  the  principle  of  religious  obedi- 
ence. And  he  did  it.  Though  it  must  have  torn 
his  heart-strings  almost  beyond  expression,  he 
promptly  made  up  his  mind  to  that  sore  martyr- 
dom. —  At  the  present  day,  in  heathen  lands, 
many  a  person  is  called  to  choose  between  the 
father  and  mother  who  stand  ready  to  cast  him 
out  of  home  and  heart,  and  that  Christ  who  says, 
He  that  loveth  father  and  mother  more  than  me 
is  not  worthy  of  me.  On  the  one  hand,  say  the 
parents,  If  you  become  a  Christian  we  will  dis- 
own you  ;  you  shall  no  longer  be  son  of  ours  —  on 
the  other  hand,  Jesus    says,  If  you  do   not  be- 


NO  SACRIFICE  TOO  GREAT  FOR  RELIGION.      45  i 

come  a  Christian,  you  can  have  no  part  in  my  sal- 
vation. And  some  of  these  persons  conclude  to 
sacrifice  relatives  and  home  in  favor  of  relifjion. 
Have  you  never  heard  of  a  like  hard  choice  being 
placed  before  people  even  in  this  Christian  land  ? 
I  have  heard  of  parents  forbidding  their  children, 
and  husbands  their  wives,  to  embrace  religion 
under  penalty  of  loss  of  favor,  and  even  of  having 
the  home  doors  forever  closed  against  them.  And 
sometimes  persons  in  a  strait  betwixt  two  have 
decided  to  save  their  souls  rather  than  their 
homes  ;  and  have  gone  out  unsheltered  into  pre- 
mature orphanage  and  widowhood  for  sake  of 
Christ  and  religion.  I  think,  wisely.  I  consider 
that  they  made  an  immense  gain  by  their  choice. 
The  sacrifice  was  great  ;  but  the  prize  gained  by 
it  was  so  wonderfully  greater,  that,  on  strictly 
commercial  principles,  it  would  have  been  the  ex- 
treme of  folly  to  have  acted  differently.  Abram 
forsaking  country  and  father's  house  and  only 
son  ;  converts  from  heathenism,  foreign  and  do- 
mestic, consenting  to  be  rudely  pushed  forth  from 
their  homes,  and  all,  rather  than  not  have  the 
good  part  which  cannot  be  taken  away,  were  wise 
in  their  generation.  For,  what  shall  a  man  give 
in  exchange  for  his  soul  .-* 


452  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  time  has  been  when  men  have  been  called 
to  sacrifice  the  highest  ho7iors  for  the  sake  of  re- 
ligion. To-day  the  Pope  of  Rome  is  really  called 
on  by  God  to  renounce  his  character  as  antichrist, 
and  to  become  a  Christian  man.  What  does  such 
a  summons  mean  .''  It  means  that  he  lay  aside 
his  triple  crown,  his  spiritual  despotism,  the  hom- 
age he  receives  and  the  authority  he  exercises  as 
vicegerent  of  Christ.  On  no  other  terms  can  he 
become  a  Christian.  —  Henry  of  Navarre  thought 
it  a  question  whether  he  could  retain  both  his 
Protestantism  and  the  crown  of  France.  As  it 
lay  in  his  mind,  a  choice  was  to  be  made  between 
the  scepter  of  Charlemagne  and  the  true  Chris- 
tian doctrine  and  life.  He  decided  to  keep  his 
kingdom  and  to  lose  his  religion.  —  Paul,  the  tal- 
ented scholar  of  Gamaliel,  the  zealous  and  brilliant 
partisan  of  the  great  and  powerful  —  will  this  am- 
bitious young  man  give  up  all  his  prospects,  and 
even  chances,  of  worldly  promotion  in  order  to  be 
Christ's  .''  This  was  really  the  choice  submitted 
to  him.  He  decided  for  Christ.  —  Dionysius,  the 
Areopagite,  sitting  under  the  preaching  of  this 
converted  Paul,  what  shall  he  do  }  He  may  give 
up  his  Areopagus,  or  he  may  reject  the  offers  of 
the    Gospel.     He  cannot  hope  to  retain  that  fa- 


NO  SACRIFICE  TOO  GREAT  FOR  RELIGION.      453 

mous  and  honorable  post  among  the  Athenians  if 
he  becomes  a  disciple  of  Jesus.  He  decides  to 
sacrifice  the  honor  for  the  sake  of  the  religion.  — 
Then  there  was  Moses,  a  nursling  of  the  Pha- 
raohs, learned  in  all  the  wisdom  of  the  Egyptians, 
mighty  in  words  and  deeds,  a  very  prince  in  the 
land  —  would  he  remain  a  prince,  or  would  he 
suffer  affliction  with  the  people  of  God,  as  one  of 
them.  He  chose  the  latter  with  a  right  princely 
determination.  He  sacrificed  his  honors  to  his 
principles.  —  There  is  to-day  a  heathen  chief,  or 
crown-prince,  or  prince  imperial,  who  would  for- 
feit his  right  of  succession  should  he  embrace  the 
pure  Gospel  in  a  saving  way.  What  had  he  bet- 
ter do  .''  Is  there  the  smallest  doubt  what  course 
would  on  the  whole  be  wisest  .''  Suppose  anti- 
christ should  become  a  Protestant  penitent,  and,  in 
consequence,  lose  his  tiara  and  super-regal  domin- 
ion—  suppose  Henry  the  Fourth  of  France  had 
chosen  to  remain  plain  Henry  of  Navarre  and  a 
Christian,  instead  of  becoming  the  successor  of 
Charlemagne  and  an  apostate  —  indeed,  suppose 
any  man  had  offered  to  him  what  Satan  offered 
Jesus,  viz.,  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  and  the 
glory  of  them,  in  exchange  for  religion  and  eternal 
life,  and  that  he,  like  Jesus,  should  curtly  refuse 


454  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  offer  —  has  any  sensible  man  anything  to  say 
against  the  prudence  and  judiciousness  of  sucli 
a  step  ?  I  know  that  Paul  and  Dionysius  and 
Moses  acted  wisely.  And  I  know  that  there  can 
be  but  one  opinion  on  the  case,  among  such  as 
will  take  the  trouble  to  look  intelligently  across 
the  portals  of  eternity.  For,  what  shall  a  man 
give  in  exchange  for  his  soul  .'' 

The  time  has  been  when  men  have  been  called 
on  to  sacrifice  the  largest  estates  for  the  sake  of 
religion.  O  young  man  of  the  Gospel,  go  and 
sell  all  thovi  hast  and  give  to  the  poor,  and  thou 
shalt  have  treasure  in  heaven  —  not  otherwise! 
Christ  probably  saw  that  the  spirit  of  covetousness 
had  so  intrenched  itself  in  that  heart  that  nothing 
short  of  the  amputation  of  his  great  possessions 
could  save  the  man.  Hence  it  was  that  he  was 
put  under  this  severe  necessity  of  choosing  be- 
tween his  property  and  his  salvation. — O  Zaccheus, 
rich  with  ill-gotten  gains,  the  half  of  whose  goods 
has  possibly  come  by  crooked  and  unjust  means, 
and  some  of  which  no  doubt  have  come  by  wanton 
accusation  and  extortion,  what  must  you  do  to 
have  eternal  life  }  Why,  you  must  repent  and  do 
works  meet  for  repentance  —  that  is,  under  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  you  must  stand  and  say, 


AV  SACRIFICE  TOO  GREAr  FOR  RELIGIOX.       455 

Lord,  the  one  half  of  my  goods  I  give  to  the  poor, 
and  if  I  have  taken  anything  from  any  man  by 
false  accusation  I  restore  him  fourfold.  To  him 
the  question  of  religion  was  a  question  of  sacrific- 
ing the  greater  part  of  his  great  estate.  He  de- 
cided that  it  was  best  to  make  the  sacrifice  and 
have  salvation  come  to  his  house.  —  In  those  furi- 
ous persecutions  of  Christianity  which  raged  dur- 
ing the  first  three  centuries,  and  especially  in  that 
most  furious  of  all  under  the  emperor  Decius,  ^s 
well  as  in  some  of  Huguenot  and  Puritan  times, 
Christianity  meant  fines  and  confiscations  to  the 
last  obolus  and  centime  and  penny.  The  peril  of 
being  stripped  of  every  item  of  property  was  al- 
most universal  among  Christians.  And  you  know 
that,  in  the  strait  betwixt  two,  great  numbers 
boldly  decided  to  part  with  their  property  and 
keep  the  religion,  and  took  joyfully  the  spoiling  of 
their  goods,  knowing  in  themselves  that  they  had 
in  Heaven  a  better  and  an  enduring  substance.  — 
Have  we  never  heard  in  these  days  of  conscience- 
money  ?  Why  does  the  Government  receive  every 
year  large  sums  through  the  post-office  with  in- 
formation that  it  is  the  principal  and  interest  of 
money  wrongfully  taken.''  It  is  because  those 
wrong-doers  have  had  thrust  upon  them  the  ques- 


456  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

tion  whether  they  will  keep  the  money,  or  will 
have  religion  and  its  resulting  salvation.  They 
found  it  necessary  to  make  a  choice.  And  rather 
than  remain  unrepentant,  unreformed,  and  unsaved 
sinners,  they  put  their  hands  into  their  coffers  and 
took  out  (in  some  instances,  perhaps)  every  dollar 
they  were  worth.  Did  these  men  make  a  wise 
choice .''  Did  Zaccheus  do  a  judicious  thing.'' 
Did  the  young  man  in  the  Gospel  make  a  great 
mistake  in  sorrowfully  refusing  to  part  with  all  his 
great  possessions  for  the  sake  of  eternal  life  .''  Did 
the  men  of  persecuting  times  who  took  Christ  and 
His  religion  to  their  hearts  at  the  expense  of 
houses  and  lands,  of  comforts  and  necessaries,  and 
went  forth  from  their  palaces  mere  beggars  —  did 
these  men  make  a  common  sense  and  commenda- 
ble decision  1  I  say,  Yes.  I  consider  that  there 
was  never  yet  a  fortune  worth  as  much  as  religion. 
And  I  consider,  too,  that  a  man  is  infatuated  who 
thinks  otherwise.  Suppose  you  own  the  solid 
world  with  its  innumerable  acres  and  forests  and 
dwellings  and  wares  and  mines  and  mints  and 
banks  and  national  exchequers  —  suppose  you 
own  the  Solar  System,  and  all  the  Systems  that 
ever  shot  painted  ray  into  your  uplifted  eye. —  I 
know    that   you   would   act   a   very  unwise   part 


NO  SACRIFICE  TOO  GREAT  FOR  RELIGION.      457 

should  you  not  stand  ready,  on  occasion,  to  part 
with  the  whole  tremendous  property  for  the  sake 
of  salvation.  For,  what  shall  a  man  give  in  ex- 
change for  his  soul  ? 

The  time  has  been  when  men  have  been  called 
on  to  sacrifice  the  Jiappiest  lives  for  the  sake  of 
religion.  It  has  been  an  essential  part  of  religion 
in  all  ages — an  open  confession  of  Christ  and 
His  doctrine.  "  Whosoever  shall  deny  me  before 
men,  him  will  I  also  deny  before  my  Father  which 
is  in  heaven."  The  glorious  martyrs  understood 
it  ;  and  did  not  shrink  from  the  cross,  the  stake, 
the  wild  beasts.  They  were  stoned,  they  were 
sawn  asunder,  they  were  slain  by  the  sword  —  after 
wandering  about  in  deserts  and  mountains  and 
dens  and  caves  of  the  earth,  clad  in  sheep-skins 
and  goat  skins,  being  destitute,  afflicted,  torment- 
ed. It  was,  all  things  considered,  their  choice. 
They  were  put  on  the  necessity  of  choosing  be- 
tween Christ  on  the  one  hand,  and  life  on  the 
other.  So  they  chose  Christ  and  death,  death 
not  unfrequently  with  his  most  terrible  visage" 
There  was  Carthaginian  Perpetua,  for  example, 
whose  life  was.  crowned  with  the  happiest  gifts 
of  fortune  —  with  youth  and  health  and  wealth 
and    rank   and    culture   and    love  —  what   a    life 


458  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

that  was  to  be  thrown  to  the  wild  beasts  !  But 
that  Christian  heroine  had  heard  that  he  who 
loses  his  life  for  Jesus'  sake  and  the  Gospel's 
shall  save  it  —  had  heard  that  whosoever  con- 
fesses Jesus  before  men  shall  be  confessed  be- 
fore the  angels  of  God.  This  was  enough.  With 
dauntless  heart  she  cast  the  die.  Nothing  could 
swerve  her  from  her  decision.  The  hardest  words 
and  the  softest  ;  argument,  persuasion,  and  men- 
ace ;  the  dungeon,  torture,  and  time ;  they  all 
spent  themselves  on  her  in  vain.  She  could  not, 
and  she  would  not,  give  up  her  religion.  Just  like 
the  prophet  Daniel  !  With  eyes  wide  open  on 
the  den  of  lions,  he  went  into  his  chamber,  and 
prayed,  and  gave  thanks  before  his  God  as  afore- 
time. When  it  came  to  choosing  between  his  re- 
ligion and  his  life  —  great  and  glorious  as  that 
life  was,  and  horrible  as  was  the  guise  in  which 
death  stalked  toward  him  —  he  did  not  hesitate. 
I  Was  Daniel  an  enthusiast  .''  Was  Perpetua's 
conduct  a  piece  of  extravagance .''  Nay,  such 
choice  as  theirs  was  soberest  and  healthiest  good 
sense.  They  were  infinitely  the  gainers  by  the 
transaction.  I  consider  that  there  is  not  one 
who  could  not  afford,  a  thousand  times  over,  to 
part  with  such  a  life  as  he  has,  however  beauti- 


NO  SACRIFICE  TOO  GREAT  FOR  RELIGION.      459 

fill  and  noble  and  prosperous  and  happy  the  life 
may  be,  rather  than  part  with  his  soul.  For, 
what  shall  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  his  soul  ? 

The  dearest  ties,  the  highest  honors,  the  largest 
possession's,  the  happiest  lives  —  yes,  religion  is 
worth  infinitely  more  than  any  or  all  of  these.  It 
sometimes  happens  that  all  these  earthly  treasures 
are  mingled  in  the  cup  of  one  man  ;  and  what  I 
have  to  say  is,  that  should  he  at  any  time  find  this 
great  all  of  his  standing  in  the  way  of  his  salva- 
tion, it  would  be,  beyond  dispute,  his  wisdom  to 
dash  his  full  cup  to  the  earth  as  strongly  and 
promptly  as  if  it  were  so  much  refuse  pottery, 
instead  of  the  jeweled  chalice  that  it  is.  Every 
apostle  would  have  done  it  —  every  Christian 
martyr  would  have  done  it.  Old  Testament 
Abraham  would  have  done  it,  with  even  his  im- 
perfect light  on  the  wonders  of  a  future  state. 
And  we — how  much  more  should  we  do  it,  at 
our  noon  of  salvation !  Eternity  is  so  long, 
Heaven  is  so  bright,  Christ  is  so  wondrously 
fair,  and  religion  so  wondrously  rich  and  high 
—  ought  not  every  sensible  man  to  count  all 
things  but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowl- 
edge of  Christ  Jesus,  the  Lord  }  I  will  not 
undervalue  these  terrestrial  thinsrs.     Allow  them 


460  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

to  be  as  valuable  as  the  most  enthusiastic  votary 
of  the  world  can  venture  to  claim  in  the  pres- 
ence of  intelligent  people.  Still,  the  total  of 
them  is  worth  infinitely  less  than  the  soul.  What 
can  a  man  give  in  exchange  for  that !  Survey, 
ye  geographers  and  astronomers  !  Compute,  ye 
mathematicians  !  Imagine,  ye  poets  !  There  is 
nothing  within  the  orbed  immensity  of  these 
great  girdling  heavens  worth  as  much  as  a  soul 
—  but  a  soul  ! 

Are  you  ready  for  any  sacrifices  rather  than 
lose  your  salvation,  or  even  peril  it }  You  ought 
to  be.  Much  more  ought  you  to  be  ready  for 
such  comparatively  small  sacrifices  as  are  com- 
monly demanded  in  this  age  and  country.  What 
is  it  you  are  called  on  to  do .''  You  must 
thoroughly  repent,  no  doubt.  And  a  thorough 
repentance  is,  doubtless,  a  taking  up  of  the  cross  ; 
for  it  is  a  breaking  off  from  life -long  habits  of  sin, 
a  tearing  up  by  the  roots  of  old  tastes  and  affec- 
tions, an  amputation  of  favorite  lusts  of  every 
name.  But  other  persons  have  had  to  make 
these  sacrifices,  and  vastly  more.  Meet  the 
smaller  demand  on  you  in  something  of  their 
spirit  —  in  something  of  the  spirit  born  of  that 
solemn  inquiry,  What  shall  a  man  give  in  ex- 
change for  his  soul .'' 


XXX. 

WHERE  DO  I  EXPECT  TO  SPEND 
MY  ETERNITY? 


XXX. 

WHERE   DO    I    EXPECT   TO    SPEND    MY 
ETERNITY  ? 

A  SHORT  time  since,  in  turning  over  a  Bible 
which  lay  in  the  public  room  of  a  hotel,  I 
noticed  some  pencil-writing  on  the  inside  of  the 
cover.  With  some  difficulty  I  made  out  the 
meaning.  It  was  a  question  —  one  not  unfit  to 
be  found  in  company  with  Bibles  —  this  question, 
Where  do  I  expect  to  spent  my  eternity  ? 

The  characters  were  nearly  gone.  Months, 
and  perhaps  years,  had  passed  since  they  were 
traced.  One  day,  it  may  be,  that  room  was  full 
of  strangers.  Some  were  bending  over  their 
newspapers  ;  some  were  looking  out  into  the  busy 
street  ;  some  were  talking  of  goods  and  markets  ; 
nearly  all  had  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  this 
world  plainly  written  in  their  faces.  There  was 
one  exception.  He  was,  I  conjecture,  a  plain, 
common  man.  He  sat  retired  with  a  book  on  his 
knee,  and  certain  awkward  letters  forming  under 
his  hand.     None  of  your  careless,  worldly,  hard 


464  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

faces  was  that ;  but  one  mellowed  by  the  mingled 
gravity  and  tenderness  of  religious  thought.  He 
had  been  thinking  of  the  soul — how  inestimable 
its  value  ;  how  profound  and  widespread  the 
neglect  of  it,  especially  among  those  engaged  in 
bustling  business.  And  as  he  mused,  he  felt  that 
even  he  had  a  call  to  do  something  in  behalf  of 
the  perishing.  There  were  many  things  he  could 
not  do  —  his  station  and  faculty  did  not  permit  — 
but  if  he  should  trace  a  word  of  warning  on  that 
white  page,  might  not  some  roving  eye  be  caught 
by  it,  and  find  it  a  word  in  season  ?  So  he 
thought  what  he  should  write  —  something  that 
would  strike  the  mind  promptly  ;  something  that 
would  readily  linger  in  the  memory,  and  haunt 
the  conscience.  Where  do  I  expect  to  spend  my 
eternity  —  what  more  nervous  and  arresting  in- 
quiry than  this  !  So  he  wrote  it.  He  looked  up 
for  a  blessing  on  his  bow-drawing  at  a  venture,  on 
his  seed-sowing  beside  all  waters,  and  went  his 
way. 

In  course  of  time  that  writing  of  his  met  many 
eyes.  Wearied  with  the  news-sheet,  wearied  with 
gazing  abroad,  wearied  with  their  own  thoughts, 
many,  at  one  time  and  another,  betook  themselves 
to  turning  over  the  ready  Bible,  and  chanced  on 


WHERE  SPEND  MY  ETERNITY?  465 

the  penciled-words  designed  for  them.  They 
spelled  them  out.  With  various  results.  To  one 
they  were  only  so  much  alphabet.  The  solemn, 
searching  question  got  no  further  than  the  eye  : 
was  never  answered,  nor  even  asked,  within  the 
mind  itself.  With  unshaken  indifference  on  every 
feature,  the  reader  closed  the  Book  and  forgot  what 
he  had  seen.  Another  came.  As  his  eye  caught 
the  rude  penciling  a  sneering  smile  wreathed  his 
lips.  He  held  it  up  for  his  companion  to  see  and 
laugh  at  also.  "  What  cant !  "  "  What  ludicrous 
simplicity ! "  So  they  made  merry  together. 
After  a  while  a  third  came  —  to  be  vexed  at  what 
amused  the  others.  What  right  had  one  to  spring 
upon  him  such  an  unpleasant  idea !  He  felt  to- 
ward the  writer  of  that  little  postscript  as  toward 
an  ofificious  and  insulting  intermeddler.  With 
abrupt  gesture  he  put  the  Book  from  him.  But 
another  came  and  looked  ;  and,  as  his  eye  grad- 
ually took  in  the  sense  of  that  rude  writing,  there 
rose  to  his  face  an  expression  of  grave  and  start- 
led thought,  which  deepened  as  he  mused.  He 
went  forth  to  his  business,  but  still  you  might 
have  read  in  his  looks.  Where  do  I  expect  to  spend 
my  eternity  ?  Do  what  he  would,  the  searching 
question  would  not  leave  him.  The  arrow  was 
30 


466  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

barbed.  The  life  preserver  pressed  with  the  hand 
below  the  surface  zvoiild  shoot  up  again  to  view 
the  moment  the  hand  was  withdrawn.  So  at  last 
it  proved  a  preserver  of  life  to  him.  One  day  he 
was  seen  with  a  new  aspect,  grasping  the  Cross. 
The  next  he  was  seen  bearing  that  Cross  —  even 
crucifying  upon  it  himself  and  the  world. 

In  hope  that  this  last  effect  may  be  produced 
again,  I  have  determined  to  put  to  you  the  ques- 
tion which  I  found  written  for  travelers.  The  an- 
cestors have  gone,  a  fe\V  years  hence  not  one  of 
us  will  be  left  —  where,  I  ask,  are  you  counting 
on  being  then  and  ever  after .''  You  can  project 
your  thoughts  a  great  way  into  the  future.  You 
are  accustomed  to  do  it,  and  to  picture  to  yourself 
how  this  country,  or  the  world,  will  look  a  century 
or  two  hence.  Do  you  ever  imagine  where  and 
what  you  will  be  when  the  index  on  the  great  dial 
of  the  ages  points  to  the  year  1975  } 

Where  do  you  expect  to  spc7id your  eternity  ?  Do 
not  hear  this  question  with  indifference.  Did  it 
involve  a  shrewd  suggestion  as  to  the  way  of  get- 
ting property  and  rising  in  the  world,  there  would 
be  no  occasion  for  this  admonition.  As  it  is  there 
is  great  occasion.  Some  of  those  whose  eyes 
chanced  to  rest  on  the  faint  pencilings  of  that 


WHERE  SPEND   MY  ETERNITY?  467 

hotel  Bible  were  as  little  interested  in  them  as  if 
they  had  been  the  unmeaning  scrawl  of  child- 
hood ;  and,  in  a  few  moments,  forgot  that  so 
weighty  a  question  had  ever  been  put  to  them. 
Let  it  not  be  so  with  you,  as  I  translate  that 
writing  into  speech  and  bring  it  to  your  own  door. 

—  Do  not  hear  it  with  levity  and  sneer  of  heart,  as 
if  it  were  religious  cant  and  a  detected  device  for 
entrapping  the  weak  and  timid  into  unnecessary 
seriousness.  You  never  had  a  more  honest  and 
grave  question  knocking  at  your  gate.  Methinks 
I  see  now  the  slighting  smile  with  which  one  read 
it,  awkwardly  written  on  the  cover  of  that  hotel 
Bible  —  a  disdainful  smile  which  would  not  have 
been  seen  had  the  writer  chosen  to  pencil  a  line 
of  a  ditty,  or  a  maxim  of  Chesterfield.  The  put- 
ting forward  and  pressing  of  a  religions  sentiment 

—  it  was  for  this  the  poor  mistaken  scorner  kept 
his  merriment  and  derision.  Let  it  not  be  so  with 
you.  No,  not  even  in  your  heart  make  light  of 
that  great,  solemn,  honest  question  which  I  have 
quoted  into  speech  and  brought  to  sound  its 
trumpet  in  your  ear.  —  Do  not  hear  this  with  a 
vexed  and  sore  heart,  as  if  it  were  an  impertinence 
to  thrust  so  unpleasant  a  topic  upon  you.  Who 
can  think  so  .''     Must  not  the  wound  be  probed  } 


468  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Must  not  the  danger  be  spoken  of?  I  think  I  see 
now  the  flushing  displeasure  with  which  some 
turned  away  from  the  penciled  Bible  where  the 
unknown  friend  had  set  holy  ambush  against  their 
sin  and  danger.  Let  it  not  be  so  with  you  as  the 
written  inquiry  becomes  vocal,  appeals  to  you  as 
it  were  by  name,  says  loudly  and  says  often,  And 
zvhere  do  yoic  expect  to  spend  your  eternity  ?  Enter- 
tain the  question.  Give  it  free  scope  upon  your 
judgment  and  heart  and  conscience.  Answer  it, 
answer  it  faithfully  ;  and,  if  the  answer  should  not 
be  such  as  you  could  wish,  let  it  be  your  effort  to 
create,  through  Divine  grace,  the  basis  of  a  better 
answer  in  time  speedily  to  come. 

There  are  certain  things  which  make  this  ques- 
tion one  of  the  most  imposing  ever  addressed  to 
you.  In  familiar  talk  we  sometimes  mean  by 
"  eternity  "  only  a  very  long  time.  But  the  eter- 
nity with  which  our  question  deals  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent matter.  It  is  a  real  eternity  —  that  which 
in  the  Scriptures  is  used  to  express  the  unending 
duration  of  God  and  His  Government.  It  is  as 
many  thousands  of  years  as  there  are  atoms  in  all 
worlds,  and  spaces  for  atoms  in  all  infinite  space. 
Think  of  this  when  you  are  asked,  Where  do  yon 
expect  to  spend yojir  eternity  ? 


WHERE  SPEND  MY  ETERNITY?  469 

If  this  bodily  life  becomes  distasteful  to  you, 
you  can  without  difficulty  escape  from  it.  In  less 
time  than  is  taken  to  tell  of  it  you  can  stretch 
yourself  breathless  and  motionless,  dead.  But 
you  cannot  escape  from  eternity.  Choose  it  or 
not,  your  conscious  existence  must  last  forever. 
Summon  to  your  aid  every  conceivable  engine  of 
self-destruction  —  enlist  against  yourself  all  the 
fiery,  furious  powers  of  nature  —  struggle  for  an- 
nihilation like  a  giant,  and  get  all  your  fellow- 
creatures  to  join  their  wrestlings  to  yours  —  you 
would  not  succeed  in  loosening  in  the  least  one  of 
the  ten  thousand  bonds  which  bind  you  to  immor- 
tality. Think  of  this  when  you  are  asked.  Where 
do  yoii  expect  to  spejid your  eternity  ? 

How  far  in  advance  of  you  stands  the  gate  of 
this  everlasting  .^  You  can  see  it  most  plainly  ; 
perhaps  twenty  or  thirty  years  away,  perhaps  one 
year.  Sometimes  it  seems  almost  near  enough  to 
be  touched.  It  would  not  be  surprising  should 
you  find  yourself  passing  under  its  mighty  arch 
any  day.  Once  passed  there  is  no  repassing.  It 
is  easy  to  enter,  impossible  to  retreat.  Of  the 
millions  who  have  crossed  the  threshhold  not  one 
has  ever  found  his  way  back  into  time.  Once 
within,  such  ponderous  bolt  falls  into  its  socket, 


470  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

such  mighty  bars  and  chains  clank  promptly  fo 
their  place,  that  no  madness  nor  folly  that  listens 
to  the  sound  is  stark  enough  to  think  of  a  going 
out  again.  You  are  steadily  being  pushed  for- 
ward to  that  inexorable  gateway  —  your  step  never 
for  one  moment  stops  or  slackens  —  on,  rapidly 
on,  straight  as  the  most  skillfully  shot  arrow  to  its 
mark,  are  you  being  pressed  by  some  unseen 
power  which  overbears,  as  if  they  were  so  many 
nothings,  all  your  efforts  of  resistance.  Think  of 
this  when  you  are  asked,  Where  do  you  expect  to 
spend  your  eternity  ? 

An  eternity  ;  an  absolute  eternity  ;  an  eternity 
that  cannot  by  any  means  be  blotted  out,  or  even 
for  one  moment  receded  from  ;  an  eternity  just  at 
hand  —  where  are  you  counting  upon  spending 
this  ?  What  we  are  expecting  often  goes  far  to- 
ward deciding  what  we  shall  have.  To  reckon  on 
ease  and  success  will  sometimes  insure  them, 
and  sometimes  it  will  prevent  them.  For  the  sea- 
man to  expect  fair  weather  sometimes  amounts  to 
a  shipwreck,  and  then  again  it  is  the  only  thing 
that  can  keep  him  from  going  to  the  bottom.  For 
the  sick  man  to  expect  health  is  sometimes 
enough  to  cast  off  his  sickness,  and  then  again  it 
plunges  him  into  indiscretions  which  are  sure 
death. 


WHERE  SPEND  MY  ETERNITY ?  47 1 

There  are  several  answers  which  you  may  be 
supposed  to  make.  And,  first,  you  may  say  that 
you  have  no  definite  expectations  on  the  S7ihject. 
You  do  not  know  what  to  think  of  your  pros- 
pects. Allow  me  to  ask  whether  this  is  a  ra- 
tional position.  There  are  doubtless  many  cases 
in  which  it  is  wise  for  one  to  form  no  definite  idea 
of  what  is  going  to  happen  to  him  ;  cases  indeed 
in  which  such  an  idea  would  be  impossible.  But 
is  yours  such  .-'  Are  there  no  means  of  telling  to 
what  place  in  eternity  you  are  bound .''  Or,  if 
there  are,  would  the  knowledge  only  distress  you 
without  at  all  altering  your  prospects  }  Far  from 
it.  It  is  easy  for  you,  at  least  not  impossible,  to 
find  out  whether  you  are  in  the  broad,  or  in  the 
narrow  way.  And  if  you  should  find  yourself  on 
the  worse  path  you  have  an  opportunity,  more  or 
less  choice,  of  exchanging  it  for  the  better.  In 
such  circumstances  you  ought  to  have  definite  ex- 
pectations as  to  your  condition  in  the  next  world. 
Suppose  some  dark  night  you  were  to  set  forth 
and  travel  with  all  your  might  without  any  care 
as  to  the  direction  of  your  steps.  One  meets  you 
and  inquires  what  point  you  are  expecting  to 
reach  at  last,  whether  the  house  of  your  friend 
where  the  marriage  festival  to  which  you  have 


472  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

been  invited  is  in  progress,  or  the  river's  brink 
and  a  bed  beneath  the  water.  And  you  reply 
that  you  have  no  definite  expectations  as  to  the 
matter.  Yet  you  have  but  to  hft  your  eye  to 
where  the  polar  star  glistens  to  know  whither  you 
are  going  —  perhaps  you  have  but  to  ask  the 
questioner.  Is  such  conduct  reasonable,  according 
to  any  rule  of  reason  known  to  mortals  }  Would 
not  your  friend  feel  justified  in  seizing  upon  you 
as  one  quite  bereft  of  reason,  and  putting  you  un- 
der bolt  and  guard  }  And  yet  this  is  just  your 
conduct  in  religion.  No  idea  what  point  in  eter- 
nity you  will  reach,  and  yet  traveling,  traveling, 
with  all  your  might,  when,  by  a  little  care  in  look- 
ing and  inquiring,  you  might  come  to  the  Father's 
house  and  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb,  in- 
stead of  dreadful  billows  of  destruction  ! 

But  I  may  conceive  of  you  as  giving  another 
answer.  You  may  feel  able  to  say,  /  expect  to 
spend  viy  eternity  in  Heaven.  Not  many  can  say 
this  in  full,  firm  tones.  Not  many  can  say  it  with 
sound  warrant  for  their  expectation.  But  if  you 
can,  you  are  to  be  congratulated.  Happy  the 
man,  thrice  happy,  who  reasonably  expects  to 
make  home  in  Heaven  through  that  absolute,  in- 
evitable, proximate,  swift-coming  eternity  !     Such 


WHERE  SPEAV)  iMY  ETERNITY?  473 

a  man  has  no  occasion  for  the  pity  of  his  fellows, 
though  he  is  poor  and  sick  and  quite  outcast  from 
the  honors  and  friendships  of  men.  He  has  what 
he  would  unwisely  barter  for  all  this  world  has  to 
give.  I  congratulate  you  if  this  man  is  yourself 
—  if,  amid  the  general  dearth  of  well-grounded 
confidence  of  a  heavenly  eternity,  you  can  wisely 
give  that  grand  answer  I  have  supposed.  But 
perhaps  it  is  worth  while  to  consider  the  fact  that 
men  do  not  always  spend  their  eternity  where 
they  expect  to.  There  is  such  a  Ifhing  as  an  un- 
founded expectation.  If  you  count  on  Heaven 
because  you  are  an  honest  and  friendly  man,  or 
because  you  are  as  good  as  others,  or  because  you 
do  about  as  well  as  you  can,  or  because  God  is 
merciful  and  will  make  allowances  for  human 
frailties,  or  because  you  propose  to  repent  and  be- 
lieve at  some  time  or  other  before  you  die,  then 
your  expectation  is  unfounded  ;  and,  despite  it, 
your  long,  long  eternity  will  not  be  likely  to 
get  spent  within  the  jeweled  and  golden  walls 
of  Heaven.  Your  very  hopes  will  go  to  de- 
feat themselves.  No  more  unpromising  candidate 
for  Heaven  can  be  found  than  the  man  who 
falsely  flatters  himself  that  he  is  on  the  way 
thither.     Ask  what  your  foundations  are.    Search 


474  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

beneath  your  goodly  building  and  see  that  it  does 
not  rest  on  mere  hay  and  stubble.  Perhaps  it 
stands  on  a  good,  solid  basis  —  and,  if  so,  your 
examination  will  only  increase  your  comfort.  If 
it  is  found  a  mere  Guy  Fawkes'  house,  standing  on 
combustibles  and  kegs  of  powder,  waiting  to  be 
blown  on  the  morrow  to  the  four  winds  —  awake, 
bestir  yourself,  provide  other  foundation  while 
you  can.  Put  Jesus  Christ  under  your  building. 
Do  it  by  the  only  levers  mighty  enough  for  that, 
the  godly  sorrow  and  the  living  faith.  Then  when 
the  question  comes  to  you.  Where  do  you  expect  to 
spend  your  eternity,  you  will  be  authorized  to  an- 
swer with  beaming  face  and  assured  tone,  as  if  an 
angel  had  spoken  to  you,  /  expect  to  spend  it  in 
Heaven. 

The  question  is  capable  of  but  one  answer  be- 
sides. I  can.  imagine  you  as  giving  that  ;  but  I 
know  that  there  is  not  one,  the  wide  world  over, 
who  is  ready  to  utter  even  to  his  own  heart  so 
dreadful  an  answer.  Persons  there  have  been  who 
in  anguish  and  dismay  have  come  out  with  the 
declaration  that  the  harvest  is  past  and  the  sum- 
mer ended  and  they  are  not  saved  —  that  they 
look  forward  to  nothing  less  than  spending  their 
inevitable,  absolute,  near  eternity  in  the  world  of 


WHERE  SPEND  MY  ETERNITY?  475 

woe.  The  time  may  come  when  you  will  feel 
driv^en  to  the  same  dreadful  confession.  But  as 
yet  it  is  plain  from  the  very  quietness  with  which 
you  carry  yourself  that  you  are  far  enough  from 
taking  this  gloomy  view  of  your  future.  You  can- 
not be  counting  on  spending  your  immortality  so 
dreadfully,  and  yet  wear  such  a  face  and  keep 
such  an  attitude  as  that.  You  are  having  no  ex- 
pectation at  all  in  the  matter,  or  you  are  flattering 
yourself  that  in  some  way  or  other  you  will  man- 
age to  escape  into  eternal  blessedness.  May  you 
be  successful.  May  you  never  come  to  be  an- 
other Altamont.  Still  beware.  It  is  not  an  alto- 
gether needless  caution  when  I  say,  See  to  it  that 
you  are  not  some  day  obliged  to  give  the  most 
fearful  of  answers  to  that  great  question  which 
has  now  been  so  often  repeated  in  your  ears.  The 
way  on  which  you  are  going  is  just  the  way  to 
bring  you  to  such  a  result.  You  have  but  to 
keep  on  in  the  beaten  track  of  the  years  that  are 
gone,  and  you  are  sure  to  reach  the  time  when 
you  will  see  plentiful  reason  to  consider  yourself 
doomed  and  lost.  Continue  to  hear  the  Gospel 
with  half  an  ear,  keep  busy  in  scheming  and  get- 
ting only  for  this  world,  still  quiet  any  stray  ap- 
prehensions with  some  vague    intention  of    ulti- 


476  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

mate  repentance  —  and  the  thing  is  done.  After 
a  while  you  will  suddenly  become  conscious  of  a 
new  position  in  respect  to  the  government  of 
God.  That  government  has  all  along  been  yoked 
to  you,  and  essaying  to  drag  you  up  the  steep, 
slippery  ascent  toward  God  and  salvation.  You 
have  resisted  and  are  resisting.  By  and  by  you 
will  have  no  occasion  to  do  so.  Of  a  sudden  you 
will  feel  yourself  cut  loose.  Every  bond  will  be 
severed,  and  you  will  feel  your  feet  beginning  to 
slide.  Then  will  flash  upon  you  the  full  horror 
of  your  situation.  And  should  some  voice  come 
to  you  and  ask,  WJiere  do  you  expect  to  spend  yojir 
eternity  ?  you  would  be  obliged  to  answer,  /  expect 
to  spend  it  in  Hell.  God  forbid  such  a  necessity  ! 
Yourself  forbid  it !  "  Let  not  this  be  the  issue  of 
all  the  sabbaths  and  Bibles  and  sermons  and 
strivings  of  the  Holy  Ghost  which  are  now  yours. 


XXXI. 
A    SURE    MADNESS. 


XXXI. 

A  SURE  MADNESS. 

A  COMPLETE  eternity  belongs  to  only  two 
■*■  ^  independent  objects.  These  objects  are 
space  and  God.  Without  beginning  in  the  past 
and  without  end  in  the  future,  these  necessary 
existences  are  placed  by  this  attribute  at  an  infi- 
nite remove  from  all  things  else  with  which  we 
are  acquainted. 

But  there  are  many  objects  whose  duration 
gives  them  a  title  to  something  of  the  grandeur 
which  belongs  to  these  two  in  their  mysterious 
unapproachableness.  In  respect  to  an  eternity 
past,  God  and  space  stand  alone.  In  respect  to 
an  eternity  to  come,  they  have  the  world  of  man- 
kind for  their  fellows.  Every  soul  has  had  its  day 
of  birth  but  to  not  one  will  come  its  day  of  death. 

Families  will  perish  ;  parishes  will  pass  without 
leaving  a  trace  ;  states,  however  long  they  may 
continue,  must  at  last  come  to  nothing  ;  the  race 
as  such  will  vanish  in  the  fires  of  the  judgment 
day  ;   but   the    individual    souls  which    make    up 


480  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

these  have  nothing  of  their  perishing  character. 
With  that  same  finger  with  which  God  has  written 
passing  azvay  on  ahnost  all  things  we  see  around 
us,  has  He  written  on  the  immaterial  principle 
within  us,  whether  high  or  humble,  reverenced  or 
despised,  holy  or  sinful,  in  characters  easily  read 
of  all  and  preaching  mightly  to  all,  abiding  for- 
ever. 

We  have  heard  this,  and  assented  to  it,  a  thou- 
sand times.  But  do  we  really  understand  what  it 
is  to  live  forever  }  We  go  to  our  dictionaries  and 
read  that,  in  the  narrowest  of  its  literal  meanings, 
forever  is  duration  without  end.  Is  the  matter 
now  settled,  and  have  our  minds  now  taken  in  the 
full  force  of  an  endless  existence }  We  go  to  our 
philosophies  and  are  told  that  duration  is  an  ab- 
straction and  an  attribute,  and  we  find  its  charac- 
ter discussed  with  great  show  of  skill  and  science 
in  a  multitude  of  essays.  Are  we  now  at  rest, 
and  can  it  at  last  be  said  that  we  have  fairly 
mastered  the  idea  of  a  soul's  life  .-• 

At  Potsdam  in  Prussia  lately  lived  a  man  who 
had  nearly  made  out  his  century.  How  great  the 
number  of  objects  which  had  met  his  eye  since 
he  was  carried  in  his  mother's  arms  !  Countless 
particulars  in  these  familiar  landscapes  about  his 


A   SURE   MADNESS.  48 1 

home  !  The  trees,  the  stones,  the  animals,  the 
blades  of  grass,  the  leaves,  the  atoms  of  dust  — 
what  multitudes  !  But  he  had  not  passed  all  his 
years  in  that  one  spot.  Led  by  an  insatiable 
curiosity,  he  shifted  his  horizon,  year  after  year, 
from  land  to  land  ;  and  not  a  country  that  he 
saw  but  was  seen  with  devouring  eyes.  And 
he  had  been  as  great  a  thinker  as  observer. 
From  early  dawn  till  late  at  night,  for  most  ot 
his  century,  his  mind  had  been  always  on  the 
alert,  investigating  for  himself  and  making  the 
thoughts  of  others  his  own.  What  an  immense 
variety  of  mental  acts  and  state  had  been  his 
during  all  these  years ! 

Now  suppose  that  the  long  life  of  this  man 
were  multiplied  by  all  the  objects  he  saw,  and  the 
product  still  further  multiplied  by  all  the  mental 
acts  which  his  vigorous  and  indefatigable  powers 
put  forth,  would  that  give  us  anything  like  the 
number  of  the  ages  which  the  humblest  of  us  is 
destined  to  live  }  If,  instead  of  the  life  of  Hum- 
boldt, we  take  that  of  a  State,  and  multiply  the 
two  thousand  years  of  the  Roman  empire  by  all 
the  objects  which  from  first  to  last  the  subjects  of 
that  empire  saw,  and  the  product  still  further  by 
all  the  thoughts,  purposes,  and  emotions  which 
31 


482  PARISH  CHRITIANITY. 

those  many  generations  of  subjects  entertained, 
would  that  give  us  anything  hke  the  sum  of  the 
ages  the  humblest  of  us  is  destined  to  live  ?  If 
we  take  the  life  of  the  race,  instead  of  that  of  a 
nation,  and  multiply  all  the  years  from  the  crea- 
tion to  the  judgment  by  all  the  objects  which  all 
the  generations  will  have  seen,  and  the  product 
still  further  by  all  the  acts  and  states  which  they 
have  done  and  experienced,  would  that  give  us 
anything  like  the  sum  of  the  ages  the  humblest  of 
us  is  destined  to  live  ?  Not  the  millionth  part  of 
them.  As  yet  we  have  made  no  progress  what- 
ever toward  expressing  the  magnitude  of  our 
future. 

Science  has  shown  that  a  single  grain  of  cop- 
per must  contain  at  least  ten  millions  of  atoms. 
Still  more  wonderful,  it  shows  that  there  are  living 
beings  so  small  that  ten  thousand  millions  of  them 
would  only  make  the  bulk  of  a  hemp  seed.  A 
mass  of  dust  as  large  as  one's  hand  probably  con- 
tains particles  enough  to  exhaust  all  the  powers 
of  a  reckoning  arithmetic.  How  many  particles 
then  must  belong  to  the  prodigious  mass  of  the 
globe  !  Each  of  these  mites  has  its  history,  as 
full  of  events  as  that  of  the  most  busy  man  ever 
known  :  for  it  is  demonstrable  that  each  is  subject 


A   SURE  MADNESS.  483 

to  an  unceasing  succession  of  changes,  and  has 
been  ever  since  it  came  into  being,  some  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  years  ago.  Think  how 
constantly  the  whole  body  of  air  is  in  motion  — 
how  constantly  the  whole  body  of  water,  through 
attractions  and  heat  and  winds.  Think  what  a 
variety  of  motions  is  impressed  on  the  whole 
globe  as  subject  to  astronomical  laws,  and  what 
modifications  these  motions  are  continually  hav- 
ing from  chemical  influences  and  the  agency  of 
living  beings.  What  a  constant  rush  of  events  is 
taking  place  in  every  animal  and  vegetable  struct- 
ure, with  its  circulations  and  growth  and  decay ! 
How  much  history  is  included  in  a  single  drop  of 
water  swarming  with  a  greater  population  of  ani- 
malcules than  the  world  has  of  human  beings  — 
how  much  is  signified  in  the  little  chip  of  coral 
made  up  of  the  skeletons  of  more  animals '  than 
we  can  reckon  !  Gigantic  mountain  ranges  are 
chiefly  made  up  of  animalcules  —  how  much  his- 
tory is  signified  by  them  !  And  so  each  atom  of 
the  enormous  globe  has  its  own  unwritten  biog- 
raphy, its  own  crowded  succession  of  changes 
stretching  back  through  many  geological  eras  to 
that  far  off  beginning  when  God  created  the 
heavens  and    the  earth.     How  many  globes  just 


484  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

like  this  gleam  upon  it  from  the  evening  sky  — ' 
many  visible  to  the  naked  eye  ;  hosts  upon  hosts, 
like  the  sands  of  the  sea-shore,  revealed  by  the 
telescope — each  made  up  of  as  many  infinitesi- 
mals as  our  own  world,  and  each  infinitesimal 
having  as  long  and  crowded  a  march  of  experi- 
ences as  any  mote  of  dust  that  we  tread  upon  ! 
And  now  suppose  the  life  of  this  world  till  the 
last  conflagration  to  be  multiplied  by  all  the  atoms 
which  compose  it,  and  by  all  the  events  great  and 
small  which  shall  have  taken  place  within  it,  and, 
still  further,  by  all  the  atoms  and  all  the  events 
which  belong  to  all  the  worlds  whose  light  has 
reached  us  —  would  that  give  us  anything  like 
the  number  of  the  ages  which  the  humblest  of  us 
is  destined  to  live  ?  Not  the  millionth  part  of 
them.  As  yet  we  have  not  begun  the  numera- 
tion which  expresses  the  life  of  the  soul. 

By  various  means  it  is  now  possible  to  measure 
the  hundredth  part  of  a  second  of  time.  There 
are  more  than  eight  millions  of  these  divisions  in 
a  single  day.  Take  as  many  of  these  as  are  con- 
tained in  the  life  of  the  eldest  angel,  and  multiply 
the  sum  into  itself  as  many  times  as  there  are  an- 
gels in  heaven  and  men  on  the  earth  and  evil 
spirits  in  hell  —  as  many  times  as  there  are  iotas 


A   SURE  MADNESS.  485 

of  existence  and  event  within  the  entire  range  of 
modern  astronomy  —  as  many  times  as  there 
could  be  figures  of  microscopic  smallness  crowd- 
ing all  the  planetary  and  sidereal  spaces  as  far  as 
the  most  penetrating  optic  glass  can  carry  us  — 
and  when  you  have  found  the  mighty  product, 
multiply  it  by  the  products  we  have  already  found 
and  found  to  be  insufficient ;  and  then  call  each 
unit  of  that  last  product  the  longest  period  that 
creature-existence  has  yet  reached,  or  will  have 
reached  ten  thousand  billions  of  ages  hence  — 
would  that  give  us  anything  like  the  sum  of  the 
ages  which  the  humblest  of  us  is  destined  to  live  ? 
Not  the  millionth  part  of  them.  When  the  last 
of  all  this  prodigious  accumulation  of  years  has 
come  there  is  yet  an  eternity  to  follow.  The 
thought  can  dart  away  in  an  instant  to  the  fur- 
thest star  that  has  ever  glimmered  upon  us. 
Were  thought  to  travel  along  the  line  of  that  sup- 
plementary future  with  the  same  speed  for  all  the 
■years  which  we  have  just  tried  to  heap  up  before 
your  imagination,  it  would  at  last  reach  a  point 
in  our  life  most  formidably  remote  indeed,  but  yet 
a  point  after  which  come  mysterious  lengths  of 
being  still  to  which  belongs  the  name  of  eternity 
as  truly  as  if  our  amazing  subtractions  had  not 


486  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

been  made.     Such  is  a  glimpse  of  the  life  of  your 
soul  and  of  mine. 

The  life  of  your  body  may  become  irksome  to 
you  through  disappointment  and  various  trouble. 
In  such  case  it  is  in  your  power  to  bring  that  life 
to  an  end  with  great  ease.  By  just  opening  a 
vein,  or  swallowing  a  drug,  or  discharging  a  pis- 
tol, you  can  in  a  few  moments  lay  yourself  out 
stark  till  the  judgment.  But  there  is  no  way  in 
which  you  can  in  the  least  shorten  that  overpow- 
ering stretch  of  existence  of  which  we  have  just 
been  trying  to  get  an  idea.  No  poison,  nor  dag- 
ger, nor  leaden  hail  can  bring  the  soul  to  an  end. 
Should  by  any  chance  the  time  come  when  exist- 
ence proves  a  burden  to  you  there  is  no  possible 
way  of  ridding  yourself  of  it  —  neither  by  strata- 
gem, nor  by  bold  violence,  nor  even  by  entreating 
God,  who  indeed  has  the  power  to  speak  it  into 
annihilation,  but  who  will  never  use  the  power. 
He  will  hold  you  to  life  with  an  unrelaxing  grasp, 
though  you  shrink  against  it,  though  you  loathe- 
it,  though  you  beg  by  all  Heaven  and  earth  to  be 
freed  from  the  intolerable  calamity.  This  He  has 
taken  care  to  let  you  well  know.  You  know  it  so 
well  that  no  extremity  of  distress  would  be  likely 
to  suggest  to  you  the  idea  of  trying  to  bring 
about  your  own  extinction. 


A   SURE  MADNESS.  487 

And  SO,  when  you  have  done  all  you  can  to  take 
in  the  thought  of  your  great  future,  and  are  al- 
most overborne  by  a  glimpse  of  the  swarming 
hosts  of  ages,  you  find  yourself  oppressed  ■  still 
further  by  the  conviction  that,  do  what  you  will, 
not  a  single  moment  can  be  subtracted  from  your 
incalculable  eternity. 

The  first  few  years  of  our  immortality  are  of  a 
mixed  character  in  respect  to  happiness.  Every 
one  has  some  joys  and  some  sorrows.  The  hap- 
piest is  not  perfectly  happy  —  the  wretchedest  is 
not  perfectly  wretched.  But  this  state  of  things 
is  not  to  go  with  us  very  far  into  our  long  succes- 
sion of  years.  In  a  few  days  our  sorrows  will  all 
vanish  to  return  no  more,  or  our  happiness  will. 
In  a  few  days  we  shall  have  all  the  enjoyment  our 
capacities  admit  of,  or  all  the  misery.  And  there 
will  be  no  further  change.  Down  through  the 
reaches  of  that  long  drawn  pilgrimage  which  our 
souls  must  needs  make  it  will  all  be  bright  as  par- 
adise, or  dark  as  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 
This  twofold  character  of  our  pilgrimage  is  just 
as  unalterable  as  its  length.  It  were  as  vain  to 
think  of  drinking  forever  that  mingled  cup  which 
is  now  held  to  our  lips  as  it  would  be  to  think  of 
blotting  out  our  forever  by  our  cries  and  efforts. 


488  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

One  or  the  other,  joy  unqualified  and  supreme,  or 
wretchedness  unqualified  and  supreme  —  such  are 
the  only  alternatives  which  are  allowed  to  give 
complexion  to  our  immortality,  and  whichever  it 
is  that  first  gets  the  mastery  will  keep  it  ever  after. 
Once  fairly  entered  on  the  better  path,  it  is  hence- 
forth one  continued  and  invincible  triumph.  Once 
fairly  entered  on  the  other,  it  is  henceforth  one 
continued  and  invincible  disaster  going  on  eter- 
nally toward  midnight. 

Human  nature  finds  it  very  hard  to  bear  long 
pain  even  in  its  lowest  degrees.  How  slowly  does 
a  single  restless  night  creep  away !  It  is  perhaps 
but  an  uneasiness  of  body  or  mind  barely  suffi- 
cient to  keep  you  awake  ;  and  you  lie  and  listen 
to  the  ticking  of  the  clock,  and  wish  it  were  morn- 
ing, and  think  how  wearily  long  it  is  in  coming. 
If  it  is  some  sharp  pain  that  preys  upon  you,  your 
impatience  is  still  greater,  and  it  seems  as  though 
the  minutes  were  hours,  and  in  their  intolerable 
sluggishness  would  never  give  you  the  morning 
light  by  which  to  go  to  the  dentist  or  to  send  for 
the  physician.  Let  that  short  night  of  eight  or 
ten  hours  become  the  long  night  of  polar  regions. 
Be  you  condemned  to  lie  in  your  restlessness  or 
your   pain    till   the   six   months'    darkness  wears 


A   SURE  MADNESS.  489 

away  before  can  open  to  you  any  prospect  of 
relief.  How  wretchedly  tedious  would  seem  that 
long  time  of  waiting  !  The  lingering  minutes, 
how  irksome  would  they  become  to  you  !  Would 
it  not  be  almost  beyond  your  power  of  endurance 
to  lie  in  your  weary  pain,  and  count  the  mo- 
ments, as  they  slowly  approach  and  slowly  depart, 
and  think  how  many  such  must  be  worn  away  be- 
fore the  dawn  will  allow  the  least  thing  to  be  done 
for  you  !  How  then  could  you  bear  to  have  that 
same  state  of  things  drawn  out  through,  a  night 
of  fifty  years,  a  hundred,  a  thousand,  ten  thou- 
sand, ten  millions,  as  many  millions  as  there  are 
sands  on  the  sea-shores  and  atoms  in  the  uni- 
verse !  To  look  forward  to  the  continuance  of 
even  the  smaller  degrees  of  pain  through  such  tre- 
mendous periods  —  to  feel  absolutely  sure  that 
not  the  slightest  relief  can  be  had  until  the  very 
last  moment  of  these  periods  has  fully  gone  — 
what  must  it  be  to  our  poor,  impatient  human  nat- 
ure !  Even  with  the  hope  of  an  ending  at  last 
—  how  dreadful  !  But  take  away  that  hope,  give 
the  most  thorough  conviction  that  in  no  second- 
ary sense,  but  in  all  soberness  and  strictness  of 
speech,  that  long  trouble  will  see  no  end  —  can 
human   nature   bear  this  !     And,  after  all,  this  is 


490  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

not  Stating  the  case  in  its  full  force.  The  true 
question  is  not,  how  are  we  fitted  to  bear  a  small 
pain  through  duration  without  end  ?  The  ques- 
tion which  our  circumstances  really  bid  us  answer 
is  this,  how  can  such  beings  as  we  who  in  one 
short  restless  night  exclaim,  "  Would  to  God  it 
were  morning,"  how  can  such  beings  bear  su- 
preme misery  without  hope  ?  Can  your  heart  en- 
dure or  your  hands  be  strong  in  the  day  when 
God  shall  begin  to  deal  with  you  in  this  manner  ? 
This  far-stretching  forever,  in  the  traveling  over 
of  a  small  part  of  which  we  so  weary  our  imagina- 
tions —  this  far-stretching  forever  which  no  man 
can  avoid  let  him  do  what  he  will  —  this  far- 
stretching  forever  which  must  be  either  su- 
premely happy  or  supremely  miserable  —  this  far- 
stretching  forever  whose  ruin  our  poor,  impatient 
human  nature  is  so  ill  able  to  bear  —  is  what  most 
men  voluntarily  incur  the  risk  of  ruining  com- 
pletely every  day  in  their  lives.  They  admit  their 
immortality.  They  cannot  but  feel  that  there  is, 
at  least,  a  possibility  that  the  neglecters  of  relig- 
ion in  this  world  will  be  punished  with  everlasting 
destruction  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord  and  the 
glory  of  His  power.  They  cannot  but  feel  it  pos- 
sible that  their  all  of  this  world  may  forsake  them 


A   SURE   MADNESS.  49 1 

at  any  moment.  And  yet  these  are  the  men  who 
are  making  daily  postponement  of  religion  with 
as  much  coolness  as  if  they  were  venturing  abso- 
lutely nothing.  To  be  sure,  if  they  make  the 
enormous  venture  for  the  sake  of  an  enormous 
equivalent,  their  conduct  ought  not  to  surprise 
*  us.  Men  are  wont  to  risk  much  for  the  sake  of 
gaining  much.  But  where  is  the  thing  which  a 
reasonable  being  can  for  a  moment  dream  will 
compensate  him  for  the  risk  of  undoing  his  im- 
mortahty  .?  Wliat  is  the  thing  for  which  this  risk 
is  actually  taken  t  Oh  tell  it  not  in  Gath,  publish 
it  not  in  the  streets  of  Askelon,  for  what  an  al- 
most incredible  trifle  men  are  willing  to  put  at 
stake  their  everlasting  all !  It  is  not  perfect  hap- 
piness in  this  world  —  not  nearly  as  much,  though 
even  that  would  be  a  strange  pay  for  so  vast  a 
stake.  It  is  not  perfect  happiness  for  a  single 
year  —  not  even  a  greater  degree  of  enjoyment  in 
this  life  than  falls  to  the  lot  of  the  Christian.  It 
is  merely  a  few  days,  more  or  less,  of  conscience- 
disturbed,  God-chastised,  miserable,  indulgence  in 
sin.  This  is  the  whole  of  it :  this  is  what  Satan 
puts  down,  and  what  men  accept,  as  an  offset  to 
their  eternity  in  that  great  game  of  hazard  which 
they  and  he  are  playing  together  —  that  game  in 
which  he  risks  nothing  and  thev  everything. 


492  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  Scripture  says  that  madness  is  in  the  heart 
of  men  while  they  live.  It  does  not  take  an  in- 
spired person  to  say  this.  The  impenitent  can 
do  it  for  themselves.  None  know  better  than 
they,  not  only  that  sound  judgment  does  not  jus- 
tify them  in  the  course  they  are  taking,  but  also 
that  it  exclaims  against  that  course  as  the  hight 
of  folly  and  madness.  At  the  bottom  of  their 
hearts  they  are  amazed  at  themselves  to  think  that 
they  can  so  coolly  take  such  risks  for  such  pit- 
tance of  a  consideration.  They  know  there  never 
was  such  another  setting  at  defiance  the  common- 
est principles  of  prudence  and  reason.  And  yet, 
despite  this  knowledge,  they  persist  in  repeating 
day  after  day  what  they  so  severely  judge.  Just 
think  of  it  —  that  inevitable  existence  through 
which  the  fleetest  thought  of  angel  could  not 
travel  during  as  many  angelic  lives  past  as  there 
are  atoms  and  events  belonging  to  the  universe 
-=— this  mighty  All  of  theirs  is  voluntarily  hazarded 
upon  the  cast  of  a  die,  not  once,  nor  twice,  but 
almost  times  without  number  —  and  all  this,  while 
a  voice  in  their  souls  is  continually  echoing  the 
Scripture  which  says,  Madness  is  in  their  heart 
while  they  live  ! 

Most  certainly  what  I  have  now  said  was  not 


A   SURE   MADNESS.  493 

meant  to  bear  on  one  across  the  seas.  It  is  meant 
iov  you.  I  do  not  imagine  that  you  feel  as  though 
injustice  were  done  you  in  this.  None  can  know 
better  than  you,  in  your  moments  of  reflection, 
that  the  real  name  of  that  course  of  conduct  you 
are  pursuing  is  madness.  Your  conscience  has 
told  you  this,  hundreds  of  times.  You  have  no 
manner  of  doubt  that,  were  you  once  entered  upon 
an  undone  forever,  you  would  accuse  all  your  post- 
ponements and  indifferences  in  regard  to  religion 
by  as  severe  a  name  as  does  the  wise  man  of  the 
Ecclesiastes.  Confident  then  of  being  sustained 
by  the  verdict  of  your  own  convictions,  I  make  no 
hesitation  in  saying  that,  in  trifling  as  you  do  with 
the  interests  of  that  wonderful  forever  which  be- 
longs to  you,  and  of  which  you  cannot  divest 
yourselves,  do  what  you  will,  you  are  committing 
the  greatest  madness  that  was  ever  known  within 
the  wide  monarchy  of  God.  You  are  having 
many  associates  in  this  responsible  insanity,  but 
what  comfort  will  that  afford  you  when  your  pro- 
bation is  all  gone,  when  your  soul  has  been  re- 
quired of  you,  and  when  with  unspeakable  misery 
in  your  heart  you  begin  to  count  up  the  intoler- 
ably creeping  years  of  an  existence  without  end  ! 
Suppose  that,  in    the  dead  of  the  night  just  at 


494  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

hand,  you  should  be  suddenly  awaked,  as  many 
have  been,  by  the  death  pang,  and  after  a  few 
spasms  find  yourself  fully  entered  on  an  undone 
eternity.  How  your  soul  would  cry  out  against 
itself  !  I  could  not  if  I  would,  and  I  would  not  if 
I  could,  fully  paint  the  intensity  of  that  despair 
and  woe  which  would  seize  you  on  your  awaking 
to  the  fact  that  the  great  and  unalterable  eternity 
of  which  you  have  been  so  often  warned  is  at  last 
upon  you.  May  God  in  His  mercy  save  you  from 
such  an  experience  !  Endeavor  to  realize  now,  as 
far  as  you  can,  what  it  must  be  to  feel  your  way 
inch  by  inch  through  the  sin  and  suffering  of  a 
known  forever. 


XXXII. 
A    SUCCESSFUL    APPEAL. 


XXXII. 
A  SUCCESSFUL  APPEAL. 

A  N  eastern  marriage  festival.  What  vast  out- 
'^^-  lay  for  enjoyment !  The  richest  viands,  the 
sweetest  music,  the  brightest  illuminations,  the 
most  brilliant  decorations  of  person  and  dwelling 
which  the  splendid  circumstances  of  the  parties 
allow  !  They  are  of  royal  rank.  They  have  pro 
vided  a  scene  of  almost  fairy  splendor.  Most 
fortunate  is  he  who  gains  admission  to  the  pal- 
ace at  this  time  of  abounding  gorgeousness  and 
luxury. 

See  a  faint  image  of  the  heavenly  state.  It  is 
chief  of  royal  festivals.  It  is  joy  and  glory  with- 
out measure.  When  we  think  of  the  fruit  of  the 
tree  of  life  ;  of  that  array  of  linen  clean  and  white  ; 
of  that  new  song  ;  of  that  angelic  society  ;  of  that 
city  whose  walls  are  gems,  whose  streets  are  gold, 
and  whose  sun  is  God,  how  can  we  help  saying. 
Blessed  are  they  who  are  called  to  the  marriage- 
supper  of  the  Lamb  ! 

And  all  men  are  called.     That  one  man  is  rich 
32 


498  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

and  another  poor  makes  no  difference.  That  one 
man  has  good  blood  in  his  veins  and  another  base, 
even  that  one  has  a  very  excellent  natural  charac- 
ter and  another  a  very  bad  one,  makes  no  differ- 
ence. The  five  foolish  virgins  are  called  to  the 
marriage.  And  the  messenger  as  he  goes  his 
round  is  not  one  whit  less  full-toned  and  cordial 
as  he  speaks  to  them  than  he  is  to  the  five  virgins 
who  are  wise. 

But  it  is  not  enough  to  have  a  call  to  heavenly 
glory  and  happiness.  All  the  virgins  were  called 
to  the  banqueting  hall,  but  only  five  actually  en- 
tered it.  They  that  were  ready  went  in  to  the 
marriage.  So,  in  order  to  enter  Heaven,  a  certain 
preparation  is  needed  beyond  having  an  invitation 
to  it  lying  on  our  mantels  or  spoken  in  our  ears. 
The  invitation  must  be  accepted.  A  wedding 
garment  must  be  taken.  There  must  be  a  repent- 
ing and  believing.  On  this  point  God  is  inexora- 
ble. He  will  not  allow  us  to  tear  apart  the  invi- 
tation and  its  conditions.  As  well  might  we  hope 
to  detach  from  its  primary  the  gravitating  satel- 
lite. No  one  will  ever  be  seen  at  the  marriage 
supper  of  the  Lamb  who  has  not  in  some  way 
come  into  possession  of  oil  in  his  vessel. 

But  how  shall  this  oil  be  had  .-•     Will  it  do  to 


A   SUCCESSFUL   APPEAL.  499 

go  to  sleep  trusting  that  when  we  wake  at  the 
cry,  Behold  the  bridegroom  cometh,  we  shall  find 
our  vessels  full  through  the  pity  of  some  kind  un- 
known friends  ?  Will  mere  wishing  for  oil,  how- 
ever earnest  and  long  continued,  bring  it  to  us  ? 
Can  we  depend  on  the  store  our  friends  may 
have  ?  By  no  means  —  we  must  go  and  buy  for 
ourselves.  We  must  be  personally  active  in  get- 
ting that  preparation  for  Heaven  without  which 
it  cannot  be  entered.  The  case  is  very  like  that 
of  a  farmer.  A  certain  state  of  his  fields  is  nec- 
essary to  his  having  crops  ;  and  a  certain  working 
on  his  part  just  as  necessary  to  his  fields  having 
that  state.  If  the  soil  is  good  and  free  from 
stones,  if  the  tools  he  uses  are  in  good  condition, 
if  he  sets  about  his  business  when  the  ground  is 
soft  with  the  moisture  of  spring  and  the  high-rid- 
ing summer  suns  have  not  reached  him  with  their 
parching  and  debilitating  heats,  he  may  expect  a 
much  easier  task  than  would  have  fallen  to  him 
had  he  begun  later,  with  poor  tools,  and  on  thin 
and  stubborn  land.  But,  under  the  best  of  circum- 
stances, there  is  labor  before  him  in  the  breaking 
up  of  his  fallow,  in  the  planting  of  his  seed,  in  the 
hoeing  and  weeding  of  the  rising  plants,  and 
finally  in  the  gathering  them  into  granaries.     He 


500  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

does  not  expect  to  escape  labor.  Will  God's 
bright  suns  and  precious  showers  of  themselves 
fill  his  barns  ?  Can  he  count  on  some  kind  genii 
to  do  his  tillage  for  him  ?  He  feels  that  he  must 
"  go  forth  to  his  work  and  to  his  labor  till  the 
evening."  Under  a  like  necessity  are  you,  if  you 
would  reap  Heaven  at  last.  Let  it  not  be  said 
that  this  is  taking  conversion  out  of  the  hands  of 
God,  and  putting  it  entirely  in  the  hands  of  man. 
To  say  that  you  must  strive  to  enter  in  at  the 
Strait  Gate  is  not  saying  that  there  is  no  need  of  a 
co-striving  of  God.  Both  strivings  are  necessary. 
The  farmer  must  labor,  but  in  addition  the  sun 
must  shine  and  rain  fall  in  due  proportion.  It 
will  not  do  to  overlook  either  condition  of  success. 
While  insisting  on  regeneration  by  the  Holy 
Spirit,  we  must  also  insist  that  you  "  work  out 
your  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling."  I  do  in- 
sist upon  it.  If  you  have  any  desire  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  marriage  supper  of  the  Lamb,  remem- 
ber that  you  must  actively  engage  in  procuring 
the  indispensable  oil. 

In  preparing  for  this  great  festival  it  is  neces- 
sary to  be  active  before  a  certain  time.  The  five 
foolish  virgins  at  last  set  themselves  to  make 
ready  ;  but  they  might   have   spared  themselves 


A   SUCCESSFUL  APPEAL.  50I 

the  labor.  Before  it  was  done  the  door  was  shut. 
Then  the  loiterers  came  up  and  knocked.  They 
tried  to  open  the  door  by  pressing  entreaties.  In 
vain.  Too  late — just  a  Httle  too  late.  Now,  it 
does  not  lie  within  my  power  to  tell  you  just 
where  that  fatal  point  lies  beyond  which  it  will  do 
no  good  to  exert  yourself  with  a  view  to  gain  ad- 
mission into  Heaven.  All  I  can  say  is,  that  there 
is  such  a  point,  and  that  it  is  never  more  distant 
than  death  and  may  be  much  nearer.  Up  to  this, 
activity  on  your  part  may,  through  Divine  grace, 
do  wonders.  It  may  not  only  take  you  within  the 
banqueting  house  of  the  skies,  but  place  you  in 
one  of  its  most  honorable  seats.  What  think  you 
of  a  throne  scarcely  inferior  to  those  of  archangels 
and  apostles  }  This  may  be  yours  as  the  result  of 
timely  exertion.  But  there  is  a  shutting  of  the 
door — a  bolting  and  barring  of  it  —  which  no 
created  arm  can  successfully  contend  against. 
What  if  you  run  with  all  speed  to  buy  oil  of  grace 
after  that !  What  if  the  world  never  saw  such 
another  specimen  of  diligence  and  zeal  and  labor 
in  trying  to  get  ready  for  the  high  festival  of  eter- 
nity !  What  if  your  prayers  come  knocking  with 
the  frequency  and  loudness  of  importunate  terror  ! 
"  Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  me  !     It  is  true  I  have 


502  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

been  slow.  I  have  slept  when  I  should  have 
waked,  I  have  been  wrapped  up  in  the  world  when 
I  should  have  given  my  best  attention  to  religion. 
But  it  shall  be  so  no  longer.  I  am  now  all  alive 
to  the  great  matter  of  salvation  :  there  is  nothing 
I  will  not  do  to  obtain  it.  Lord,  Lord,  open  unto 
me  —  Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  me  !  What  a  calam- 
ity should  this  door  remain  shut  upon  me  forever ! 
Oh,  let  it  open  but  for  one  brief  moment  only  — 
one  brief  moment !  Give  me  but  one  chance 
more.  Lord,  Lord,  open  unto  me."  But  it  is  too 
late.  Never  being  so  merciful  as  God  in  the  time 
of  mercy,  never  being  more  tenacious  of  wrath  in 
the  day  of  wrath.  The  closed  door  will  never 
open.  Your  labors  will  all  come  to  nothing  ;  like 
those  of  the  farmer  who  begins  to  bestir  himself 
to  prepare  his  field  for  a  crop  just  when  the  win- 
ter blasts  begin  to  blow,  after  having  wasted 
spring  and  autumn  in  idleness.  He  may  tell 
Providence  of  his  empty  storehouse.  He  may 
beg  earnestly  for  the  bright  warm  days  he  knew 
months  gone.  He  may  dig  away  at  the  frozen 
ground  with  amazing  pains,  and  deposit  his  seed. 
But  what  of  that .?  Will  the  laws  of  Nature  give 
way  that  he  may  escape  the  consequences  due  to 
his  folly  }     The  frosts  and  snows  —  will  they  give 


A   SUCCESSFUL   APPEAL.  503 

up  their  reign  that  he  may  redeem  his  position  ! 
Never  a  single  blade  will  reward  his  toil.  The 
bitter  blasts  which  rave  around  his  want  and 
wretchedness  will  laugh  his  unreasonable  indus- 
try to  scorn.  Who  does  not  know  that  winter  is 
no  time  to  begin  farming  ?  Further  than  this, 
who  does  not  know  that  if  one  begins  after  a  cer- 
tain point  in  the  spring  even,  it  is  uncertain 
whether  a  crop  can  be  matured  ere  the  frosts  set 
in  ;  and  that,  from  this  point  onward  through 
summer  and  autumn,  the  uncertainty  is  ever  deep- 
ening into  the  probability  and  certainty  of  a  mis- 
erable failure  1  In  December,  are  you  not  quite 
sure  that  it  is  altogether  too  late  to  set  about  pre- 
paring for  any  crop  whatever }  Even  so  be  you 
sure  that  there  is  not  only  a  bleak  wintry  time  of 
the  soul  during  which  there  can  be  no  successful 
sowing,  unto  everlasting  life,  but  that  also,  from 
the  spring  of  life  onward,  it  is  ever  growing  more 
and  more  uncertain  whether  the'  pomt  is  not  al- 
ready passed  beyond  which  there  can  be  no  ma- 
turing of  the  started  grain  of  the  kingdom. 

We  may  conceive  of  such  a  thing  as  this  crit- 
ical point  in  human  life  being  to  us  a  matter  of 
merely  speculative  interest.  It  would  be  so  could 
we  be  sure  that,  in  fact,  no  one  would  be  suffered 


504  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

to  reach  the  crisis  without  having  his  provision 
for  eternity  completed.  Does  God  always  inter- 
fere for  this  purpose  ?  Are  none  actually  found 
bestirring  themselves  too  late  ?  What  numbers 
have  thought  of  themselves  you  know.  You  have 
read  of  men  of  the  highest  intelligence  bewailing 
their  harvest  as  past,  their  summer  as  ended  ;  and 
whom  no  persuasion  could  convince  to  the  con- 
trary. Do  you  not  see  multitudes  dropping  quite 
into  the  grave  without  the  least  sign  of  an 
amended  character .-'  What  means  the  Master 
when  He  says,  "  For  many  I  say  unto  you  shall 
seek  to  enter  in  and  shall  not  be  able.  When 
once  the  master  of  the  house  has  risen  up  and 
shut  to  the  door,  and  ye  begin  to  stand  without 
and  to  knock  at  the  door,  saying,  '  Lord,  Lord 
open  unto  us,'  and  He  shall  answer  and  say  unto 
you,  I  know  you  not  whence  ye  are.  There  shall 
be  weeping  and  gnashing  of  teeth,  when  ye  shall 
see  Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  and  all  the 
prophets  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  you  your- 
selves thrust  out."  What  means  the  Master  when 
He  says  :  "  I  go  my  way  and  ye  shall  seek  me 
and  shall  die  in  your  sins  :  whither  I  go  ye  can- 
not come  .'' "  Therefore  be  assured  that  five  vir- 
gins will  go  to  buy  so  late  as  to  fail  of  their  ob- 


A    SUCCESSFUL   APPEAL.  505 

ject.  A  door  shut  upon  loiterers  is  not  a  sup- 
posed thing  merely,  but  one  that  actually  happens. 
People  bestirring-  themselves  for  Heaven  to  no 
purpose,  because  bestirring  themselves  too  late, 
are  a  frightful  reality.  The  farmer  not  only  may 
put  off  his  labors  so  long  as  to  miss  the  crop,  the 
seaman  not  only  may  neglect  the  condition  and 
course  of  his  ship  so  long  as  to  make  reaching  of 
the  haven  impossible,  the  trader  not  only  may 
neglect  his  shop  so  long  as  to  make  bankruptcy 
inevitable,  but  he  does  do  it.  And  so  the  sinner 
not  only  may  put  off  attention  to  religion  till  all 
exertion  is  defied  by  a  shut  door,  but  he  does  do 
it.  We  have  no  reason  to  think  that  cases  of  this 
kind  are  all  far  away  in  the  times  of  Christ :  they 
are  here  in  these  days  and  lands.  Your  own  eyes 
have  probably  fallen  on  some  on  whose  fates  seals 
have  been  placed  —  who  if  they  should  call  would 
receive  no  answer,  and  if  they  should  seek  early 
would  not  find. 

If  that  veil  which  so  easily  wraps  the  secrets  of 
Providence  away  from  us  were  withdrawn  should 
I  find  the  door  shut  on  you  f  With  all  my 
heart  I  hope  not.  The  idea  is  too  painful  to  be 
entertained.  I  choose  rather  to  assume  that  it  is 
still  an  open  question  whether  you  will  at  last  en- 


506  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

ter  through  the  gates  into  the  City.  But  I  cannot 
shut  my  eyes  on  the  fact  that  it  will  not  always 
be  so ;  and  I  have  asked  myself  whether  you 
will  probably  be  found  at  last  coming  up  to  a 
shut  door.  I  have  answered  the  question.  And 
now  I  propose  it  for  you  to  answer.  Most  cer- 
tainly you  do  not  intend  a  fatal  delay.  On  the 
contrary,  you  propose  to  place  a  safe  interval  be- 
tween your  going  to  purchase  the  needful  oil  and 
the  terrors  of  that  shut  door  which  will  never 
open.  Still,  observation  and  experience  show  that 
intention  and  execution  cannot  be  taken  as  being 
practically  the  same  thing.  In  religious  matters 
to  break  a  resolution  is  more  common  than  to 
keep  it.  Look  at  what  generally  happens  to 
others  in  circumstances  like  your  own,  at  what 
yo\ir  own  course  has  been  thus  far,  at  the  tremen- 
dous influence  of  habit  on  human  nature  —  and 
then  tremble.  There  is  occasion  for  it.  "As  thy 
soul  liveth  there  is  but  a  step  between  thee  and 
death."  You  are  hurrying  toward  the  fatal  bourne 
swift  as  an  eagle.  Let  your  imagination  outstrip 
your  flying  footsteps,  and  bring  back  to  you  a 
picture  of  what  your  feelings  will  be  when,  at  last, 
you  wake  up  to  a  full  impression  of  the  fact  that 
your  probation  is  all  behind  you.     Can  you  look 


A   SUCCESSFUL    APPEAL.  507 

that  picture  steadily  in  the  face  ?  Does  it  not  al- 
most make  you  leap  with  unutterable  horror  ? 
"  Probation  really  all  gone,  not  one  shred  left  ? 
Never  the  slenderest  chance  more  ?  Prayers 
nothing,  effort  nothing,  the  entreaties  and 
strength  of  all  created  beings,  if  they  could  be 
enlisted  in  my  behalf,  nothing  ?  Alas !  What 
madness  has  possessed  me  !  How  freely  would  I 
give  all  the  stars  of  heaven,  if  they  were  mine,  for 
a  single  hour  with  an  open  door  !  Alas,  alas, 
alas  !  "  It  is  better  to  imagine  all  this  before- 
hand and  take  warning,  than  it  is  to  make  your- 
self easy  and  at  last  experience  it.  Will  you  con- 
tinue the  risk  of  having  this  woful  condition  be- 
come your  own  ?  Or,  are  you  ready  to  decide 
that  not  another  moment  shall  separate  between 
you  and  the  beginning  of  a  thorough  preparation 
for  the  kingdom  of  God  ? 

I  listen.  Methinks  I  hear  the  noise  of  bars 
being  taken  down,  and  of  bolts  being  drawn  back. 
I  look,  and  lo  —  the  gates  of  the  soul  open,  open 
widely,  open  till  each  strikes  the  wall  on  either 
hand.  And  from  within  a  voice,  in  which  is  the 
sound  of  tears,  says,  "  I  resist  no  more.  I  have 
been  infatuated  —  well-nigh  lost.  Come  in.  Thou 
Blessed.    Come  in  to  dwell  and  reign.     Cast  out 


508  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Thine  enemies  and  mine.  Sweep  and  garnish 
all.  Make  all  things  new.  I  give  up  my  sins.  I 
renounce  them,  one  and  all,  ibrever.  Pardon  them 
for  Thy  blood's  sake.  Henceforth,  I  will  serve 
Thee  outwardly  and  inwardly.  I  submit  to  be 
what  Thou  wouldst  have  me  be,  and  to  do  what 
Thou  wouldst  have  me  do.  I  put  myself  and  mine 
altogether  in  Thy  hands.  Let  the  King  come  in 
to  His  own  !  " 

Will  He  come  ?  I  look  through  the  broad,  free, 
gateway  and  lo,  He  is  already  there !  Hang- 
ing on  the  Cross,  His  feet  embraced  by  the  kneel- 
ing will  and  heart,  His  glorious  face  beaming 
Divine  pity  and  forgiveness  into  the  wet  eyes  that 
look  up  trustingly  into  His,  and  which,  as  they 
look,  see  a  rainbow  through  every  tear  that  falls 
from  them  !  The  man,  long  refusing,  long  hesita- 
ting, has  at  last  come  to  the  Cross  —  or,  if  you 
please,  the  Cross  has  come  to  him.  He  has  es- 
caped the  shut  door  by  passing  through  another. 
He  is  within  the  Strait  Gate. 


XXXIII. 

CONGRATULATIONS    AND 
THANKSGIVINGS. 


XXXIII. 

CONGRATULATIONS  AND  THANKS- 
GIVINGS. 

'nr^HE  ancients  sought  painfully  to  find  out 
some  way  of  changing  baser  substances  into 
gold  :  sometimes  fancied  themselves  on  the  eve  of 
that  great  discovery. 

Suppose  one  had  actually  made  it.  How  he 
would  have  rejoiced  !  How  he  would  have  con- 
gratulated himself  !  How  his  friends  would  have 
overwhelmed  him  with  their  congratulations  ! 

"  Fortunate  man  !  What  a  beautiful  thing  gold 
is  !  How  fair  and  shining  in  the  coin,  in  the  set- 
ting of  the  gem,  in  the  yellow  goblet  and  crown 
and  scepter  !  It  is  food  of  every  name,  from  the 
Arctics  to  the  Equator.  It  is  honey  from  Hymet- 
tus  ;  rosy  wine  from  Chios  and  Falerne.  It  is  rai- 
inent  of  all  rich  stuffs,  fit  for  nobles  and  princes, 
from  Lyons,  from  Persia,  from  Cashmere,  from 
Ind.  Do  you  not  see  —  it  is  pozver  in  the  form 
that  sustains  armies,  drives  engines,  sways  the 
labors  of  men,  builds  up  great  stations,  under  the 


512  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

name  of  influence  softly  and  yet  most  mightily 
bends  to  our  purposes  the  minds  of  neighbors  and 
acquaintances  in  social  life.  Do  you  not  see  —  it 
is  temples  for  religion,  alms  for  the  needy,  homes 
and  fields  and  mansions  in  city  and  country  ; 
honor  and  repose  and  pleasure  ;  even  titles  and 
baronies  and  crowns,  if  you  choose  to  have  them. 
Having  now  the  skill  to  make  at  pleasure  this 
famous  metal  out  of  the  common  things  under 
your  feet,  what  a  monarch  you  are !  Is  not  such 
a  feat  worth  years  of  toil  and  sweat  in  the  labora- 
tory ?  What  a  triumph  to  have  unlocked  such  a 
secret  —  a  secret  that  has  baffled  so  many  great 
sages,  and  even  Hermes  Trismegistus  himself! 
See  what  mountain  heaps  of  poor  base  matter  are 
lying  about  you,  spurned  by  the  foot  in  their 
worthlessness  —  nothing  is  wanting  but  the  touch 
of  your  philosopher's  stone  to  make  these  dull 
masses  shine  like  the  rising  day  and  set  you 
mightier  than  a  king.  We  congratulate  you. 
You  are  forever  beyond  the  reach  of  a  poor, 
straitened,  cramped,  worried  life.  Having  un- 
locked the  gate  of  this  stubborn  mystery  that  has 
so  long  parted  the  vile  from  the  precious,  lo,  you 
can  now  live  gorgeously  and  famously  beyond  all 
your  contemporaries." 


CONG R A  TULA  TIONS  AND    THANKSGIVINGS.     5  1 3 

So  say  his  congratulating  friends  to  the  suc- 
cessful alchemist.  And,  after  the  same  manner 
say  I  to  you,  O  Christian  convert,  who  have  found 
out  the  way  of  changing  the  base  metal  of  your 
natural  character  into  the  gold  of  a  penitent,  be- 
1  eving,  and  Christian  heart.  Only,  as  I  grasp 
your  hand  and  look  cordially  into  your  eyes  in 
which  a  new  light  is  shining,  I  cannot  consent 
to  congratulate  you  in  such  poor  and  measured 
words  as  come  from  the  friends  of  the  successful, 
alchemist. 

Congratulate  you  !  my  dear  sir,  all  Heaven  is 
at  this  moment  pealing  with  congratulations. 
That  Christian  character  you  have  come  to  —  ah, 
here  is  something  that  deserves  to  be  called  gold. 
It  shines  with  a  fairer  and  purer  ray  than  ever 
shot  forth  from  Ophir,  or  from  the  queenliest  star 
that  leads  off  the  bannered  hosts  of  night.  It 
is  to  the  soul  what  food  and  raiment  and  vital 
forces  are  to  the  body.  It  is  favor  and  fame  with 
God  ;  riches  and  glory  eternal ;  riches  and  glory 
without  or;  its  way,  and  present  riches  and  glory 
within. 

A  coarse    instinct  of  compassion  and   love    of 
repute    (sometimes    miscalled    philanthropy),    in 
variable  mixture,  is  enough  to  do,  and  in  fact  has 
33 


514  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

done  in  all  ages,  a  certain  part  of  the  world's  out- 
ward mercies  and  charities  ;  but  it  is  much  the 
smaller  part.  Such  philanthropy  is  nothing  but  a 
bubble,  a  painted  bubble,  a  little  thicker-sided, 
perhaps,  than  some  bubbles,  but  which  immedi- 
ately bursts  when  any  considerable  weight  is  laid 
on  it.  A  converted  man  is  the  main  dependence 
of  the  poor  and  the  stricken.  His  new  heart  is  a 
thorough  solid,  able  to  bear  on  occasion  an  almost 
•unlimited  weight  of  alms-giving  and  helpful  work. 
He  will  help  friends,  and  he  will  help  enemies. 
He  will  do  for  those  who  are  beautifully  grateful, 
and  he  will  do  for  the  ungrateful.  He  will  do  for 
the  amiable,  and  he  will  go  on  to  do  for  them  when 
they  become  unamiable  and  inflictors  of  wrong. 
And,  Christian  convert,  I  congratulate  both  you 
and  all  about  you — family,  parish,  State,  Coun- 
try, and  all  to  the  world's  end  —  on  your  having 
come  into  possession  of  a  principle  that,  like  a 
star,  small  or  great,  smiles  toward  all  points  of 
the  compass,  and  sends  out  in  endless  succession 
its  circular  ripples  of  light  that  never  stop.  It  is 
sure  to  make  you  a  public  benefit,  society's  bene- 
factor, a  shining  helper  of  mankind.  It  will  keep 
the  second  table  of  the  law  for  you  as  no  sham 
philanthropy  can  do. 


CONGRATULATIONS  AND    THANKSGIVINGS.     515 

And,  too,  it  is  as  good  at  the  keeping  of  the 
first  table  as  it  is  at  that  of  the  second.  Your 
sacred  toil  (which  in  some  respects  is  so  like  that 
of  the  alchemist)  having  at  last  found  its  way  from 
the  base  metal  of  the  natural  character  into  the 
sterling  gold  of  the  Christian,  you  will  at  once  find 
that  gold,  in  obedience  to  its  own  law  of  crystal- 
lization, expanding  into  a  temple  for  the  honor  of 
God,  furnished  with  altars  and  censers  and  robed 
priest  (and  his  form  is  like  that  of  the  Son  of  God), 
and  its  daily  sacrifice  streaming  away  toward 
Heaven  in  sweet-breathed  clouds.  Nothing  so 
honors  and  praises  God  in  the  face  of  His  uni- 
verse as  a  thoroughly  Christian  character  and 
life.  It  is  better  and  more  musical  than  Te 
Deums  grandly  surging  from  the  orchestras  of  re- 
nowned cathedrals.  The  sonorous  joy  that  pants 
Heavenward  in  words,  among  their  groined  and 
pillared  roofs,  is  far  less  sweet  and  honoring  to 
God  than  those  silent  anthems  that  go  up  to  Him 
from  any  plain  and  humble  man  who  has  within 
him  a  new-born  soul.  O  soul,  transmuted  from 
base  aversion  and  disobedience  to  God  to  precious 
love  and  obedience  to  Him,  so  that  He  is  now 
your  Father  —  who  is  to  be  'congratulated,  and 
congratulated  again,  with  eye  that  glows  and  hand 


y 


5l6  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

that  warmly  presses,  if  not  you  ?  Philanthropy  is 
good  ;  piety  is  better  ;  most  fortunate  are  you  in 
having  come  into  possession  of  both  these  treas- 
ures, which  in  the  sight  of  God  are  the  pearl  of 
great  price. 

Who  does  not  need  the  quiet  comfort  of  a  set- 
tled and  orderly  habitation  which  he  can  call  his 
own  —  a  castle  of  security,  independence,  shelter, 
and  repose  ?  What  such  a  dwelling  is  to  the  out- 
ward man,  such  is  a  Christian  character  to  the 
man  within.  It  shelters  him  perfectly,  as  to  all  his 
best  interests,  from  all  storms  of  this  world  and  of 
the  next.  It  is  satisfaction  ;  it  is  rest  from  worry 
of  conscience  and  carnal  fears  and  battles  ;  it  is 
fellowship  of  the  choicest  kind  with  kindred  and 
loving  spirits  whose  names  are  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Ghost,  and  general  assembly  and  church  of 
the  first-born  whose  names  are  written  in  Heaven 
—  in  short  it  is  home.  And  because  you,  my  friend, 
have  gained  this  rich  home  for  yourself  let  me 
warmly  congratulate  you.  Your  present  and  your 
future  are  made.  In  your  glorious  castle  of  secur- 
ity, shelter,  and  repose  make  yourself  at  home  for 
time  and  for  eternity.  It  is  full  of  the  kindly 
restful  home  atmosphere.  It  is  under  your  feet 
and  you  cannot  fall.     It  is  around  you,  and  earth's 


CONGRA  TULA  TIONS  AND    THAiYA'SGI TINGS.     5  I  J 

mortal  evils  dare  not,  and  cannot,  break  through 
its  thick,  buttressed  walls  to  destroy  you.  It  is 
over  you,  beamed  and  ceiled  in  many  a  ponder- 
ous arch  and  rib  and  tile  of  adamant  against  the 
rattling  angers  of  the  heavens,  so  that  they  can- 
not enter  to  pierce  or  crush  you.  And  this  royal 
home  is  yours.  You  cannot  be  cast  out  of  it  at 
the  will  of  another.  It  is  yours  to  have  and  to 
hold.  It  is  yours  to  dwell  in,  to  improve,  to  re- 
joice in  forever.  The  man  who  can  take  up  his 
abode  in  such  promises  as  these,  "  All  things  are 
yours,"  "  All  things  work  together  for  good  to 
them  that  love  God,"  is  so  richly  provided  for  that 
he  needs  no  other  inheritance.  Feel  you  richer 
than  a  monarch,  O  citizen  of  glorious  Religion  and 
the  Life  Eternal .''  You  should.  And  you  ivill. 
Your  alchemy  is  a  success.  You  have  the  true 
philosopher's  stone.  And,  busying  yourself  still 
in  your  best  and  noblest  of  arts,  till  the  dull  dust 
and  dross  of  your  native  character  have  all  be- 
come gold,  and  expanded  into,  not  only  a  shining 
temple  for  the  honor  of  God  and  a  shining  asylum 
for  afflicted  men,  but  also  into  a  shining  palace- 
home  for  yourself,  you  will  fill  it  forever  with 
the  glorious  music  of  your  own  congratulation?. 
Happy  man  !    I  press  your  hand  with  my  whole 


5l8  PARISH  CJIRTSTIANTTY. 

heart.  I  look  rejoicing  welcomes  and  well-dones 
into  those  eyes  of  yours  in  which  I  see  a  new 
light  shining  fairer  than  the  loveliest  dawn  — 
the  light  of  Christian  penitence  and  faith.  Be 
willing  to  exchange  lots  with  none  save  the  angels 
of  Heaven.  You  are  on  the  way  to  the  angels. 
How  congratulations  are  showered  on  the  warrior 
who  has  come  back  conqueror  from  the  stricken 
field  !  Ah,  what  congratulations  and  felicitations 
will  the  thronging  angels  rain  on  you  — as  an 
entrance  is  ministered  to  you  abundantly  into  the 
everlasting  kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ  ;  and  you  sit  down  with  Him  on 
His  throne,  who  also  overcame  and  is  set  down 
with  the  Father  on  His  throne ! 

But  I  have  more  to  say  to  you  than  these 
honest  words  of  congratulation.  I  say  also,  let 
us  devoutly  thank  and  praise  God  through  whose 
mighty  working  alone  your  spiritual  alchemy  has 
proved  a  success. 

Before  men  began  to  question  how  stones  might 
be  turned  into  gold,  and  had  set  themselves  to 
vex  and  torture  matter  in  their  crucibles,  many 
great  thinkers  puzzled  over  the  higher  question  of 
how  to  regenerate  human  character.  They  pored 
over  it  day  and  night.    They  handed  it  down  from 


CONGRA  TULA  TIONS  AND    THANKSGIVINGS.     5  1 9 

father  to  son,  from  teacher  to  disciple.  Socrates 
wrestled  with  it,  and  passed  it  on  to  the  Platos  : 
the  Platos  did  what  they  thought  their  best,  and 
passed  it  on  to  the  Ciceros  and  Senecas.  While 
some  men,  hid  in  caves  and  castle-cells,  mid  re- 
torts and  crucibles  and  midnight  flames  and  explo- 
sions, frayed  all  the  country  side  and  earned 
the  names  of  wizards  and  magicians  in  the  effort 
to  regenerate  a  handful  of  dull  dust  into  as  much 
shining  gold,  other  men  were  earning  the  names 
of  philosophers  (perhaps  of  enthusiasts  and  fools) 
by  sitting,  pen  in  hand  and  wrinkle  on  brow, 
thinking,  thinking,  till  corpse-pale,  how  to  regen- 
erate society. 

Some  say  that  all  this  study  was  in  vain  ;  as 
vain  as  that  of  the  old  alchemists  who,  for  the  toil 
of  years,  got  nothing  as  the  result.  It  may  be  so. 
Self-trusting  toil,  however  great,  may  well  fail  to 
reach  the  secret  of  God.  But  this  secret  has  at 
last  been  found  out.  A  sure  way  of  revolutioniz- 
ing human  character  is  now  public  property.  It 
was  not  found  out  by  thinking —  it  was  sent  to  us 
by  revelation.  It  is  not  an  ingenious  contrivance 
of  men  —  it  is  an  outcome  of  the  wisdom  and 
power  of  God.  Alchemists  had  their  methods  ; 
but  never    a  method  that  succeeded    in  turning 


520  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

Stones  into  yellow  ingots.  They  never  turned 
stones  into  ingots  zvitliout  a  method.  Opposed 
by  laws  of  Nature ;  opposed,  as  they  said,  by 
spirits  malicious  ;  they  never  did  and  never  could 
succeed.  But  there  have  been  many  who,  against 
all  and  a  thousand  oppositions  and  inertias,  have 
succeeded  in  becoming  new  creatures  in  Christ 
Jesus  by  a  certain  method  which  can  be  told  to 
others.  And  this  method  —  ah,  my  friend,  freshly 
born  again,  neither  you  nor  I  need  be  told  that  it 
is  full  of  the  power  of  God,  as  well  as  full  of 
human  activity.  The  Cross  you  grasp,  God  set  it 
up.  The  highway  of  repentance  and  faith  by 
which  you  have  come  to  that  Cross,  God  planned 
and  built  it  as  truly  as  ever  did  engineer  his  rail- 
road. You  came  on  it,  and  have  traveled  its 
whole  length,  under  constant  pressure  from  Him. 
When  you  came  to  the  Cross's  foot,  and  embraced 
it,  and  looked  up  trustingly  and  lovingly  into  the 
face  of  Jesus,  it  was  because  God  had  worked  in 
you  to  will  and  to  do.  It  was  because  you  had 
been  born  again  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  You  turned, 
you  walked,  you  ran,  you  laid  hold  of  the  Lamb 
slain  ;  but  a  Divine  force  was  at  the  bottom  of  all 
your  turning  and  walking  and  running  and  cling- 
ing.    Your  efforts  would  have  been  as  vain   as 


CONGRATULAl IONS  AXD    IHAiYKSGIVINGS.     52  1 

were  those  of  the  old  alchemists  if  you,  like  them, 
had  found  nothing  but  your  own  efforts  to  depend 
on.  In  vain  roared  their  furnaces,  in  vain  bubbled 
and  hissed  retort  and  crucible,  in  vain  poured  out 
smoke  and  incantation  on  the  midnight  air. 
Their  sweat  and  grimed  hands  and  vigils,  and  even 
magics,  all  came  to  nothing.  Not  a  yellow  atom 
could  they  get.  So  it  would  have  been  with  your 
efforts  for  a  justifying  faith  and  a  new  character, 
had  not  a  power  come  to  your  aid  greater  than 
your  own,  or  than  that  of  any  created  spirit.  At 
every  point  your  activities  stood  upon,  took  hold 
of,  and  were  empowered  by,  the  activities  of  God. 
Your  faith  was  His  gift.  He  has  given  you  re- 
pentance to  the  acknowledging  of  the  truth.  He 
has  given  you  power  to  become  a  son  of  God. 
You  have  been  born  of  the  Spirit.  You  have  had 
the  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  God  has 
created  in  you  a  clean  heart  and  renewed  a  right 
spirit  within  you.  You  could  not  have  come  to 
Jesus  except  the  Father  had  drawn  you.  So  that 
you  did  not  misrepresent  the  facts  to  yourself 
when,  just  before  you  reached  the  Cross,  and  al- 
most in  despair  of  ever  reaching  it,  you  lifted  your 
eyes  to  the  hills  whence  cometh  help  and  cried, 
Lord,  save  or  I  perish.     Then  was  stretched  out 


522  PARISH  CHRISTIAXITY. 

the  helping  hand  to  keep  you  from  sinking.  The 
Spirit  was  poured  out  from  on  high ;  and  so  the 
wilderness  has  become  a  fruitful  field,  and  the 
desert  a  garden  of  the  Lord. 

"  Not  by  might,  nor  by  power,  but  by  my  Spirit," 
saith  the  Lord.  So  be  thankful  to  God.  Thank 
Him  who  has  made  your  great  alchemy  success- 
ful. Bless  him  for  the  pure  gold  to  which  at  last 
you  have  come,  and  which  you  would  not  ex- 
change even  for  possession  of  the  famous  secret 
of  the  Middle  Ages.  Why,  those  old  alchemists 
would  not  only  have  leaped  for  joy  had  some 
friend  brought  them  the  philosopher's  stone,  but, 
if  I  am  not  much  mistaken,  they  would  have  ex- 
pressed their  gratitude  to  him  in  most  glowing 
terms.  Go  you  and  do  likewise.  Never  before 
did  the  hand  of  benefactor  do  such  service  as  has 
been  done  to  you.  Think  of  it.  Think  of  the 
portion  you  have,  and  of  the  portion  to  which  you 
are  going.  Down  on  your  knees  straightway,  I 
charge  you,  and  speak  out  glowing  thanksgiving 
toward  the  smiling  and  helping  Heaven.  You 
have  already  done  it,  no  doubt.  But  do  it  again. 
Do  it  always.  You  cannot  be  too  thankful.  Pos- 
sessor of  so  much,  heir  to  so  much,  O  regenerated 
and  redeemed  child  of  God,  who  shall  be  grateful 


CONGRATULATIONS   AND    THANKSGIVINGS.     523 

if  not  you  ?  Then  sing  to  God.  Sing  loudly. 
Sing  with  all  the  orchestras  of  your  soul.  Nay, 
let  the  singing  be  congregational  ;  and  let  all  that 
is  within  you  praise  and  bless  His  holy  name. 
Crowd  all  your  heart  with  light  and  music,  as 
some  palace  is  crowded  on  high-festival,  and  then 
open  all  the  windows  heavenward  that  the  song 
and  the  splendor  may  stream  up  to  God.  Te  Dcnni 
Laudaviiis  —  how  natural  it  is  for  incense  and 
flame  to  go  toward  the  sky  !  Standing  on  the  shore 
of  the  Red  Sea  which  you  have  just  crossed,  and 
where  your  enemies  lie  overwhelmed,  take  up  the 
song  of  Miriam,  and  say  with  triumphing  trumpets 
and  cymbals,  "  I  will  sing  unto  the  Lord,  for  He  has 
triumphed  gloriously  :  the  horse  and  his  rider  hath 
He  thrown  into  the  sea.  The  Lord  is  my  strength 
and  song,  and  He  has  become  my  salvation." 

Among  us  Nature  has  an  annual  death  and 
resurrection.  Winter  is  death  —  Spring  is  life. 
Winter  is  barrenness  and  desolation  :  and,  on 
every  hand,  the  bare  trees  moan  over  the  fallen 
leaves,  and  dry  grasses,  and  brown  fields,  from 
which  all  life  seems  forever  gone.  But  with 
spring  comes  a  resurrection.  Out  of  the  ruins 
of  the  old  year,  springs  up  a  new  verdure  made 
up  in  part  of  the  ashes  of  the  old.     The  bare,  dry 


524  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

meadows  are  again  green  and  dewy.  The  naked 
shrubs  and  trees  again  put  forth  leaves  and  blos- 
soms. The  dead  song  of  birds,  the  dead  hum 
and  chirping  of  insects,  again  break  into  music. 
There  is  quickening,  and  leaping,  and  singing 
in  the  glow  of  the  sunbeam  and  in  the  breath  of 
the  zephyr.  Nature  is  alive  again.  One  would 
hardly  know  the  landscape  of  January  in  this 
landscape  of  May. 

If  one  says  that  this  spring-resurrection  is  not  a 
very  lovely  and  desirable  thing,  I  contradict  him 
in  the  name  of  human  nature.  If  one  says  that 
this  wonderful  transformation  comes  of  mere  nat- 
ural law  —  mere  chemistry  and  electricity  and 
vegetable  mechanics  —  and  that  there  is  no  God 
at  the  bottom  of  the  steps  by  which  the  dead  win- 
ter comes  to  be  the  living  and  lovely  spring,  I 
contradict  him  in  the  name  of  all  devout  hearts, 
and  of  Holy  Scripture.  If  one  goes  to  the  other 
extreme  and  says  that  God  does  all,  and  Nature 
nothing  ;  that  there  are  no  secondary  causes  con- 
cerned in  the  change,  and,  particularly,  that  man 
cannot  help  or  hinder,  or  even  quite  prevent,  so 
far  as  himself  is  concerned,  the  new  and  glorious 
spring-life,  I  contradict  him  in  the  name  of  science 
and  general  observation.     It  is  true  that  God  is 


CONGRATULATIONS  AND    THANKSGIVINGS.     525 

at  the  heart  of  the  whole  thing.  Without  His 
primary  touch  and  impulse,  without  His  marshal- 
ings  and  inspirations  and  vitalizing  forces,  nat 
a  dry  plant  would  burst  into  leaf  and  bloom. 
But  the  First  Cause  has  taken  second  causes 
into  partnership  with  Himself  in  repainting  and 
requickening  the  wintry  and  dead  earth.  And, 
in  particular,  He  has  put  it  in  the  power  of 
every  man  to  do  something  to  help  or  hinder  this 
annual  resurrection.  Within  certain  limits,  each 
settles  for  himself  how  early,  and  how  much,  love- 
liness the  spring  will  bring  to  his  gardens  and 
fields.  The  protecting  fences,  the  sloping  glass, 
the  bountiful  fertilizers,  the  mingled  taste  and  in- 
dustry and  money,  can,  on  his  own  grounds,  both 
hasten  and  greatly  highten  the  beauty  of  the  ver- 
nal season.  And,  if  he  chooses,  he  can,  within  his 
own  fields,  mar  and  prevent  that  beauty  to  almost 
any  extent.  He  can  so  treat  his  trees  and  pas- 
tures that  no  spring  will  ever  quicken  them. 
With  help  of  axe  and  fire  and  sand  and  salt,  he 
can  spread  about  himself  a  black  desert  in  the 
best  of  May  —  quite  as  black  and  cheerless  as  lies 
about  him  in  the  worst  of  frozen  January.  So  let 
him  rejoice  and  be  congratulated,  not  only  on  ac-_ 
count  of  the  blessed  spring,  but  also  on  account  of 


526  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

the  good  sense  and  industry  and  energy  he  has 
shown  in  promoting  it  instead  of  hindering.  At 
the  same  time  let  him  look  thankfully  up  to  that 
God  without  whose  vital  forces  throbbing  every- 
where under  and  in  the  pulse  of  Nature,  a  life 
within  a  life,  the  power  of  a  power,  that  Nature 
would  have  stayed  eternally  dead.  O  gracious 
convert,  just  now  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,  this 
green  and  glorious  spring  coming  out  of  the 
bosom  of  the  dead  winter,  and  on  account  of 
which  you  are  to  be  both  congratulated  and  thank- 
ful to  God,  \%  yourself ! 

It  is  in  some  city.  All  the  long  night  pealed 
the  bells  and  thundered  the  engines.  And,  now 
that  morning  has  come,  we  will  go  forth  and  see 
what  has  happened.  Lo,  acres  on  acres  of  black 
and  smoking  rubbish  !  Not  a  house  left  standing 
in  the  whole  wide  district  ;  not  a  fence,  not  a 
shrub,  not  a  person,  save  here  and  there  an  in- 
quisitive visitor  like  ourselves.  Ashes,  broken 
walls,  bricks  and  stones  grimed  and  blasted  with 
heat,  charred  timbers  fallen  hither  and  thither  in 
wildest  confusion,  fragments  of  vessels  and  furni- 
ture in  battered  and  blackened  heaps  —  alas,  and 
here  is  the  charred  body  of  a  human  being  !  Sad 
scene  enough,  a  scene  to  sigh  over  !     And  yetj 


COmVuRAI ULATIOXS  AND    TlIAXKSCn'/NGS.      527 

ere  many  days  have  passed,  this  dead  district 
will  show  signs  of  resurrection  ;  in  a  few  months 
there  will  be  a  great  change  ;  in  a  year's  time 
the  resurrection  will  be  almost  complete,  and  a 
dense  array  of  finished  and  peopled  houses,  ware- 
houses, and  exchanges  will  lift  their  granite  and 
marble  fronts  on  the  delighted  eye.  Hardly  a 
trace  of  the  conflagration  and  its  ruin.  Every- 
thing better  than  before  —  larger,  stronger,  fairer. 
The  dead  city  is  living  again. 

Or,  it  is  a  battle-plain.  From  morning's  gray 
streak  till  an  hour  ago,  two  hosts  wrestled  here 
for  empire.  The  tug  is  over,  and  now  see  what  a 
field  it  is  !  Crops  trampled  into  the  earth  ;  the 
whole  surface  cut  and  torn  into  a  bloody  mire  by 
the  plunging  shot,  by  the  wheels  of  artillery,  and 
by  the  struggling  feet  of  men  and  horses  ;  pools 
of  blood  ;  dead  horses  and  men  and  war-weap- 
ons, entire  and  in  fragments,  lying  about  every- 
where in  utter  disorder  ;  trees  and  buildings 
riddled  and  splintered  and  prostrated  by  the 
tornados  of  iron  and  lead  that  drove  to  and  fro 
among  them  so  many  hours  ;  silent,  ghastly  faces 
staring  blindly  at  the  sky  ;  a  sea-murmur  of  moans 
mixed  with  piercing  cries  rising  piteously  from 
the   whole   wide   field  —  what  a   hideous   death- 


528  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

scene  !  Such  was  the  scene  at  the  Waterloo  of 
June,  18 1 5.  But  the  Waterloo  of  June,  1875,  is  a 
very  different  matter.  To-day,  Belgium  has  no 
greener  and  thriftier  domain.  The  scars  of  that 
old  contest  have,  one  by  one,  disappeared  ;  and  a 
richer  beauty  and  fruitfulness  stand  waving  their 
banners  of  green  and  gold  in  the  breezes  of  Bra- 
bant in  consequence  of  that  harvest  of  death,  some 
sixty  years  ago.  The  death  has  become  a  rich 
resurrection. 

If  one  denies  that  this  resurrection  from  the 
ruins  of  battle,  or  that  resurrection  from  the  ruins 
of  conflagration,  is  beautiful  and  desirable,  I  con- 
tradict him  in  the  name  of  universal  human  nat- 
ure and  common  sense.  It  is  a' thing  to  be  re- 
joiced in  and  congratulated  on.  We  grasp  your 
hands  and  congratulate  you  honestly  and  heartily, 
O  Citizens  and  Brabanters,  over  the  regeneration 
of  city  and  country.  If  one  says  that  there  is  no 
finger  of  God  in  either  —  that  cities  burn  and  are 
rebuilt,  that  provinces  are  wasted  by  war  and  re- 
stored by  peace,  without  any  Divine  Providence 
and  forces  being  concerned  —  it  being  all  a  scene 
of  mere  natural  law,  with  man  for  the  prime  agent 
—  I  contradict,  in  the  name  of  all  devout  hearts 
and  of  both  natural  and  revealed  religion.     And 


CONGRATULATIOiVS  AND    THANKSGIVINGS.     529 

if  any  choose  to  go  to  the  other  extreme,  and  see 
nothing  but  the  Supernatural  in  such  events,  and, 
instead  of  saying  that  it  is  all  man,  say  that  it  is 
all  God,  and  that  men  and  other  things  are  mere 
forms  and  puppets  in  His  hands,  mere  earthen 
receptacles  and  conduits  of  His  almighty  forces, 
I  contradict  that  also  in  the  united  name  of  ob- 
servation and  Holy  Scripture.  Men  were  con- 
sciously free  in  rebuilding  the  city,  and  might  at 
any  time  have  marred  or  altogether  prevented  its 
resurrection  out  of  its  ashes.  Men  have  freely 
cultured  and  improved  the  plain  of  Waterloo  ; 
and,  had  they  so  chosen,  they  might  have  kept  it 
as  desolate  as  the  famous  battle  left  it.  They 
might  have  sown  it  with  salt.  They  might  have 
made  it  a  Tophet  for  all  things  refuse  and  offen- 
sive. But,  instead  of  this,  they  have  raised  the 
district  to  a  richer  life  than  ever,  by  patient  and 
skillful  labor  underlaid  by  the  blessing  and  help 
of  Almighty  God.  So  let  them  greatly  rejoice. 
Let  them  exchange  congratulations,  not  only  on 
account  of  the  wonderful  change  for  the  better  in 
their  circumstances,  but  also  on  account  of  the 
free  putting  forth  of  their  own  strength  and  skill 
in  that  change.  At  the  same  time  let  them  not 
fail  to  look  significantly  upward,  and  even  say 
34 


530  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

loud  thanks  to  Him  whose  providence  is  univer- 
sal, and  who  directs  the  steps  of  man,  however 
much  he  may  devise  his  own  way.  O  gracious 
convert,  just  now  a  scene  of  ruins,  this  recon- 
structed city  and  this  rich  Belgic  plain  once 
heaped  with  death,  on  account  of  which  men  are 
to  be  both  congratulated  and  thankful  to  God,  is 
yourself. 

Some  weeks  ago  you  saw  a  sick  man ;  and  a 
more  weak,  wasted,  pained,  and  shattered  body 
you  never  saw.  His  powers  of  body  and  mind 
had  nearly  all  left  him.  Voices  and  steps  had  to 
be  muffled  in  his  presence.  His  breath  and  pulse 
fluttered  on  the  borders  of  nothing.  He  was  a 
sad  wreck  to  see  —  if  he  could  be  said  to  be  seen 
in  that  darkened  room  into  which  must  be  allowed 
to  sift  only  here  and  there  a  ray  of  the  golden 
day.  But,  to-day,  as  you  walk  abroad,  you  see 
him  again.  Can  it  be  the  same  man  }  You  can 
scarcely  believe  it  till  you  look  at  him  more  nar- 
rowly. Yes,  it  is  he ;  but  what  a  surprising 
change  !  He  is  another  man,  as  well  as  the  same. 
Health  and  vigor  gaze  out  boldly  on  you  from  eye 
and  cheek  and  every  rounded  muscle.  What 
weights  he  carries !  How  easily  he  wields  the 
ponderous  tools  of  his  farm  !  the  live-long  day  of 


CONGRATULATIONS  AND    THANKSGIVINGS.     53 1 

summer  labor  shall  scarcely  send  him  home 
wearied.  That  ruddy  cheek,  that  muscular  arm, 
,  that  stately  trunk,  that  vigorous  thought,  are 
mere  resurrections  from  the  paleness,  and  weak- 
ness, and  wastedness  of  the  sick-room  you  vis- 
ited some  weeks  ago. 

And  very  goodly  and  fair  and  joyful  resurrec- 
tions they  are  —  who  doubts  it }  Let  the  man  be 
joyful  over  them ;  and  all  his  joyful  friends  offer 
him  their  heartfelt  congratulations,  as  they  gaze 
on  his  new  life.  If  one  says  that  this  new  life  is 
due  merely  to  the  restoring  powers  of  Nature, 
the  physician,  the  medicine,  and  the  nursing  — 
that  the  hand  of  God  was  not  at  all  concerned  in 
that  remarkable  resurrection,  so  that  the  Chris- 
tian wife  who  prayed  for  it  early  and  late  lost  her 
labor,  as  did  also  the  Christian  church  whose 
prayers,  sabbath  after  sabbath,  were  asked  and 
given  in  his  behalf,  I  deny  it  in  the  name  of  piety 
and  Scripture.  "  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  who 
healeth  all  thy  diseases,  who  redeemeth  thy  life 
from  destruction."  If  one  goes  to  the  other  ex- 
treme, and  says  that  in  that  delightful  recovery 
God  did  everything  and  man  and  Nature  nothing, 
that  the  result  would  have  been  just  the  same  had 
the  natural  surroundings  been  opposite  in  every 


532  PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

particular,  I  deny  it  in  the  name  of  observation 
and  a  true  philosophy.  The  First  Cause  wrought, 
and  so  did  second  causes  also.  He  took  man  and 
other  parts  of  Nature  into  sacred  alliance  with 
Himself  That  sick  man  could  have  marred  his 
recovery  to  any  extent  —  could,  had  he  so  chosen, 
have  quite  prevented  it  and  turned  his  sickness 
into  speedy  death.  It  would  have  been  easy  for 
him  to  snap  the  thread  when  it  was  so  slender. 
A  little  negligence  would  have  done  it.  So  let  his 
friends  rejoice  with  and  congratulate  him,  on  ac- 
count of  both  the  happy  change  Itself  and  the 
free  part  he  has  had  in  promoting  it.  And  let 
neither  him  nor  them  forget  to  thank  with  loud 
hearts  that  God  whose  providence  and  forces  were 
so  indispensable  that  the  sick  man  would  now  be 
a  dead  man  had  it  not  been  for  them.  O  gracious 
convert,  just  now  deadly  sick,  this  convalescent 
whom  all  should  congratulate,  and  who  should 
keep  high  festival  of  praise  to  God,  \s,  yotirself. 


Lo,  God  Himself  did  build  the  way 
To  yonder  dark  pit  down, 

That  I  from  it  might  upward  come, 
To  .Strait  Gate  and  a  crown. 


CONOR ATULATIOA'S  AND    THANKSGIVINGS.     533 

And  then  His  hand  came  forth  to  me, 

Like  beam  from  out  the  sun, 
And  drew  upon  my  grimy  palm 

That  I  His  way  might  run. 

Nor  once  did  leave  my  straying  feet, 

Nor  feet  that  sunk  in  mire, 
But  drew  and  lifted,  as  the  babe 

Is  onward  helped  by  sire. 

And  shod  with  steel  my  naked  feet 

To  climb  the  stony  hill, 
And  waved  before  a  mighty  wand 

My  foes  with  fears  to  fill. 

Until  that  hand,  that  pierced  hand, 

All  red  with  its  own  gore, 
By  helpings  such  and  helpings  much 

Had  flushed  my  garments  o'er  ; 

And  brought  me  to  a  narrow  door, 

On  which  a  cross  was  hung  ; 
Then  helped  me  ply  that  knocker  red. 

Till  sky  with  summons  rung. 

Hark  to  the  sweetly  singing  gate, 
Shot  backward  to  the  wall ! 
"  Come  in,  thou  blessed  of  the  Lord ! " 
Sung  shining  warders  all. 

And  through  the  open  space  before. 
Best  sight  to  man  e'er  given. 


534 


PARISH  CHRISTIANITY. 

I  saw  the  shining  road  that  leads 
Up  to  the  gate  of  Heaven. 

Within  the  Gate  ?  now  God  be  thanked 
For  tliat  dear  grace  He  gave, 

When  His  own  hand  shot  back  the  bolt 
That  rusted  in  its  grave, 

And  brought  the  pilgrim  through  sunward 

Now  full  upon  my  brow. 
Slants  down  the  glory  of  such  morn 

As  never  broke  till  now. 

Shall  nations  light  their  fires  of  joy. 
And  shout  with  cannon  voice. 

When  they  come  forth  from  earthly  thrall 
Then  how  should  I  rejoice  ! 

Rejoice  I  do  —  rejoice  I  must ; 

Now  give  me  joy  to-day ; 
For  never  day  so  fair  as  this 

Shone  forth  from  my  alway. 

Oh,  spring  aloft,  ye  Shining  Ones, 

Who  watch  for  us  below, 
And  tell  through  all  yon  flaming  choirs 

The  gospel  that  ye  know. 

Hark,  how  the  silver  trumpets  shout  ! 

Hark,  how  the  bells  do  ring  ! 
How,  like  a  golden  deluge,  swell 

The  psalms  around  the  King  ! 


CONGRATULATIONS  AND    THANKSGIVINGS.     535 

"  The  sinner  lost  is  found  again,"  — 
Ah,  this  the  song  for  me  ; 
And  news  that  sets  all   Heaven  aflame 
Is  just  the  news  for  thee. 


PATER    MUNDI; 


OR, 


DOCTRINE  OF  EVOLUTION. 


From  Rev.  Charles  Deems,  D.  D.,  Editor  of  Christian  Age. 
"  We  know  of  no  man  who  is  doing  more  for  our  most  Holy 
Faith  in  the  Pulpit,  or  at  the  Press,  than  this  powerful  and  inde- 
pendent thinker." 

Fro))i  Prof.  Tayler  Lewis,  LL.  D.,  Union  College. 
"I  am  reading  with  great  delight,  as  well  as  instruction,  the 
powerful  argument,  and    feel    like  thanking  God  for  raising  up 
such  efficient  champions  of  his  much  assailed  revelation." 

From  Prof.  Charles  Hodge,  D.  D.,  Princeton  Theological  Seminary. 
"  ]  have  derived  great  benefit  from  the  writings  of  this  author, 
and  estimate  very  highly  their  value  against  the  irreligious  form 
which  modern  science  has  in  our  day  assumed.  I  rejoice  to  know 
that  he  does  not  belong  to  the  class  of  those  who  are  disposed 
to  compromise  with  the  doctrine  of  Evolution." 

From  Hon.  W.  E.  Gladstone,  late  Prime  Minister  of  England. 

"  Mr.  Gladstone  presents  his  compliments  to  the  author  of 
Pater  Mundi,  and  begs  to  return  his  best  thanks  for  that  inter- 
esting work  —  which  he  is  now  perusing,  with  particular  interest 
in  the  argument  on  Verification." 


Sent  post-paid  on  receipt  of  price,  $1.75,  by 

LOCKWOOD,    BROOKS,    &    CO., 

PUBLISHERS,    BOSTON,    MASS. 


SECOND    SERIES 

OF 

PATER    MUNDI 

BY    THE   AUTHOR   OF   "  ECCE   CCELUM." 


F^-om  the  New  York  Obserz'er.  —  "  Eloquent  lectures." 

From  the  EvangeHst.  —  "  Will  be  read  with  even  more  interest 
than  any  of  its  predecessors." 

From  the  Advance.  —  "  Wields  the  latest  ascertained  facts  of 
science  with  great  skill  and  effect." 

From  the  Congrcgatioitalist.  —  "  Will  be  found  rich  and  sugges- 
tive to  a  large  circle  of  readers." 

From  Boston  Journal.  —  "  Appears  to  us  unanswerable." 

From  New  York  Evening  Post.  —  "  Has  an  almost  unequaled 
charm." 

From  the  Literary  World.  —  "  The  cleanest,  most  compact,  and 
forcible  statement  of  the  theistic  opposition  to  the  Doctrine  of 
Evolution  that  has  ever  been  made." 

From  Scribner's  Monthly.  —  "  Discloses  throughout  an  acute 
and  subtle  mind  that  has  carefully  pondered  the  question  dis- 
cussed." 

From,  the  Methodist  Quarterly  Re7<iew.  —  "  Deserves  a  wide 
circulation." 

From  the  Lutheran  Quarterly  Fe7'ie7u.  —  "  Has  accomplished 
its  object  triumphantly ;  a  complete  and  unanswerable  reply  to 
Evolutionism." 


Sent  prepaid  on  receipt  of  price,  $1.75,  by 

LOCKWOOD,    BROOKS,    &   CO., 

PUBLISHERS,    BOSTON,   MASS. 


A     REMARKABLE     BOOK. 


ECCE    COELUM; 

OB, 

PARISH     ASTRONOMY. 

By  Rev.  E.  F.  BURR.  D.D. 

1  7o3.  16mo,  198  pp     Price,  $1.25.    New  Edition.    Sen'  prepaid  by  n.ii\ 
on  receipt  of  price. 


LOCKW^OOD,    BROOKS,    &    CO. 
381  Washington  Street,  Boston., 


The  Publishers  request  special  attention  to  the  following  im- 
solicited  testimonials,  which  have  been  received  from  soiu-ces 
worthy  of  regard.   • 

From  Rev.  W.  A.  Stearns,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  President  of  Amherst  College. 
"  I  have  read  it  with  great  profit  and  admiration.  It  is  a  grand 
production,  — very  clear  and  satisfactory,  scientifically  considered, 
very  exalted  and  exalting  in  spirit  and  manner ;  and  exliibiting  » 
wealth  of  appropriate  emotion  and  expression  which  surprises  me 
May  the  life  and  health  of  the  author  be  spared  to  show  stiD 
furtlicr  that  God  is  and  that  His  works  are  great,  sought  out  Ol 
lliem  that  have  pleasure  therein." 

From  Rev.  Horace  Bushnell,  D.I). 
"  1  have  not  been  so  much  fascinated  by  any  book  for  a  long 
iine  — never  by  a  book  on  that  particular  subject.  It  is  popu- 
larised in  the  form,  yet  not  evaporated  in  the  substance,  ~  it 
Sirigles  with  life  all  through,  — and  the  wonder  is,  that,  casting  off 
•o  much  of  the  paraphernalia  of  science,  and  descending,  for  the 
most  parv,  to  common  language,  it  brings  out,  not  so  much,  but  8' 
much  mora  of  the  meaning.     I  have  gotten  a  better  idea  of  Aatrnn 


tmy,  M  a  whole,  from  it  than  1  ever  got  before  from  all  3lhci 
■ourceSj  —  more  than  from  Enfield's  great  book,  which  I  onct  care 
folly  vrorkad  out,  eclipses  and  all. 

"  I  trace  the  progress  made,  and  the  metliods  of  the  same,  ani 
wdze  on  the  exact  status  of  things  at  the  point  now  reached." 

From  the  Bibliotheca  Sacra. 
"  This  is  a  remarkable  book,  —  one  of  the  most  remaikibl* 
whi^h  has  proceeded  from  the  American  press  for  a  long  time.  Il 
lifts  the  reader  fairly  into  the  heavens  and  unveils  their  glories. 
The  presentation  is  very  full  though  concentrated,  very  clear  and 
animating,  —  with  a  command  of  language  and  a  glow  of  eloquence 
which  is  quite  extraordinary.  The  last  lecture  is  hardly  less  than 
B  Te  Deum.  The  only  adverse  criticism  which,  on  reading  the 
preparatory  lecture,  we  were  inclined  to  make,  was,  that  tlie  almost 
impassioned  eloquence  with  which  it  opened  would  have  bean 
more  impressive  further  on,  and  after  the  imagination  had  been 
excited  by  the  facts.  But,  after  finishing  the  last  Lecture,  we 
could  not  wonder  that  a  mind  so  full  of  the  great  facts,  and  of  the 
emotion  which  they  necessarily  kindle,  sliould,  on  seeing  his  own 
parish  charge  assembled  to  listen,  break  forth  in  strains  whicln  none 
but  a  mind  fully  roused  by  his  theme  and  his  audience  would 
have  been  able  to  utter.  No  person  can  read  through  this  volume 
without  mental  exaltation,  and  a  conviction  of  the  peculiar  ability 
of  the  author." 

From  the  Neio  Englander. 
"  It  presents  an  admirable  r€sum^  of  the  sublime  teachings  ol 
Astronomy,  as  related  to  natund  religion,  —  a  series  of  brilliant 
pen-photographs  of  the  Wonders  of  the  Heavens,  as  part  of  God'i 
glorious  handiwork.  The  first  five  lectm-es  pass  the  science  Id 
fapi'l  review ;  the  last  treats  of  the  Author  of  Nature,  as  related  to 
its  leading  features.  There  is  not  a  dry  page  in  the  volume,  but 
much  originality  and  vigor  of  style,  and  often  the  highss*  elo- 
(^uence.  It  is,  withal,  evidently  by  an  author  at  home  in  his  sub 
lect,  not  "  crammed  "  for  the  task.  It  affords  a  fine  example  of 
what  an  intelUgent  pastor  can  do,  outside  of  his  pulpit,  towardi 
(raining  an  intelligent  people,  and  by  imparting  to  them  Nat.  i*'s 


8 


teachings,  leading  "through  Nature  uj  to  Nature's  God,"  — tlw 
God  of  Revelition  as  well.  To  such  a  book  the  author  need  nol 
hesitate  to  affix  his  name." 

^um  Rev.  A.  P.  Peabody,  D.D.,  LL.D.,  Preacher  to  Harvard  University _ 
and  Plummer  Professor  of  Christian  Morals. 

"  Permit  me  to  thank  you  for  a  work  in  which  you  have  effected 
I  rare  union  of  scientific  accuracy,  eloquent  diction,  and  rich  de- 
Totional  sentiment.  It  is  attractive,  instructive,  and  edifying.  It 
appears  at  a  time  when  science  needs,  as  never  before,  to  be 
redeemei  and  sanctified  by  faith  in  Him,  in  whom  are  hidden  all 
the  treasures  of  wisdom  and  knowledge.  And,  best  of  all,  it  does 
not  make  Religion  cringe  to  Science,  but  maintains  her  in  that 
queenly  status  which  is  the  only  position  she  can  hold.  The  book 
must  do  great  good,  and  I  heartily  congratulate  you  as  its  author." 

From  Rev.  S.  S.  Hall,  D.D. 
"  Ecce  Coelum  is  much  more  than  a  book-success.     It  will  be 
honored  as  a  most  timely  and  admirable  treatise  to  put  into  the 
jand  of  thoughtful  young  people,  to  '  turn  off  their  minds  from 
''anity,'  and  lead  them  to  God." 

From  the  New-  York  Evangelist. 
"  This  unpretending,  though  elegant  little  volume,  gives  a  most 
admirable  popular  summary  of  the  results  of  Astronomical  Sci- 
ance.  The  author  has  evidently  mastered  his  subject,  and  he  has 
presented  it  in  a  most  striking  manner,  adapted  to  the  comprehen- 
sion of  the  common  reader,  and  enriched  with  pertinent  illua- 
tr&tions.  The  book  is  perhaps  the  most  fascinating  treatise  on  the 
»c  ence  which  has  been  published  of  late  years,  ranking  indeed 
!n  many  respects  with  that  of  the  late  lamented  and  eloquent 
Mitchell.  One  of  its  excellencies  is  that  it  dope  not  hide  God 
bthind  his  own  creation.' " 

Front  the  Religicnts  Herald. 
"  A  New  Book,  and  one  that  is  a  book,  worth  its  weight  in 
|old  or  diamonds,  for  it  is  full  of  gold  and  precious  gems,  —  dia- 
nonds  of  law  and  fact,  —  truths  beaming  with  celestial  light.     I 


speak  of  'Ecce  Ccelum/  from  the  pen  of  Key.  Enoch  F.  Bdrb, 
D.D.,  of  Lyme,  Conn.,  published  by  l-."ichols  &  Noyes,  Boston,  a 
duodecimo  of  198  pages.  Mr.  Burr  modestly  signs  himself  '  A 
Connecticut  Pastor,'  but  some  college  has  rent  the  vail  and  written 
out  his  full  name,  and  added  to  it  a  D.D.  So  much  the  better  for 
Connecticut  and  for  the  world.  Such  light  as  the  book  contains 
ought  not  to  be  under  a  bushel. 

■ '  These  six  Parish  Lectures  are  a  masterly,  vivid,  easy,  sub 
lime  presentation  of  the  enchanting  facts  of  Astronomy.  They 
are  adapted  to  all  classes,  —  the  learned  and  the  unlearned.  Tha 
astouniling  glories  of  the  skies  are  tempered  to  our  humble  eyes. 

"  Let  all  read  the  book,  old  and  young.  Let  it  be  found  in 
every  school,  in  every  library,  and  .in  every  home  where  wisdom 
is  invoked.  Read  it,  and  you  will  exclaim,  what  glorious  light  it 
sheds  from  the  throne  of  God  upon  the  lonely  pathway  of  man !  " 

From  C.  /7.  Balsbaugh,  of  Pennsylvania. 
"  It  is  certainly  a  wonderful  little  book.  How  the  world 
shrinks  into  an  atom  as  we  follow  the  lofty  soarings  of  the  '  Con- 
necticut Pastor.'  I  never  knew  rightly  what  Dr.  Young  means 
by  saying,  '  an  undevout  Astronomer  is  mad ;  *  but  I  now  see  and 
feel  the  power  and  beauty  of  the  expression.  Such  a  book  cannot 
be  read  without  laying  upon  us  the  responsibility  of  a  new  charge 
from  heaven.  After  contemplating  such  grandeur,  we  instinctively 
exclaim.  '  What  is  man  that  Thou  art  mindful  of  him  ? '  " 

From  Hon.  S.  L.  Sehlen,  Late  Chief  Justice  of  New  Yo^-h. 
"  A  beautiful  book.  I  admire  it  for  the  elegance  of  its  style,  as 
well  as  for  the  lucid  and  able  manner  in  which  it  presents  the 
noblest  of  the  sciences.  It  will  prove,  I  think,  very  valuable,  rot 
merely  for  the  knowledge  it  communicates,  but  as  suggestive  of  a 
jne  of  noble  and  elevated  thought.  And  I  am  much  pleased  to  see 
from  the  numerous  notices  which  have  come  under  my  observa- 
tion that  my  estimate  is  confirmed  by  many  persons  of  the  first 
Tapaciiy  for  judging.  To  liave  written  a  work  which  receives 
tnd  deserves  such  very  high  praise  from  scholars  and  men  oi 
science  cannot  but  be  a  source  of  great  gratification  to  tli« 
mthor." 


SERMONS    AND   SONGS 

OF  THE 

CHRISTIAN    LIFE. 

By  EDMUND  H.   SEARS. 


NOTICES  OF  THE  PRESS. 
From  the  "  Unitarian  Review." 
"  The  writings  of  Dr.  Sears  do  not  need  to  be  made  known  to  the 
readers  of  this  journal.  The  rare  spiritual  insight,  the  poetic  beauty 
of  diction,  the  glowing  Christian  faith,  which  have  given  him  so  high 
a  place  among  the  religious  teachers  of  our  time,  characterize  this 
choice  volume  in  abundant  measure,  and  will  make  it  a  chosen  com- 
panion of  the  best  hours  of  the  best  souls." 

From  the  "  New  Church  Independent." 
"  We  have  rarely  taken  up  a  more  interesting,  refreshing,  and  truly 
fascinating  volume  than  this.  —  It  is  a  fitting  sequel  to  "  The  Heart  of 
Christ,"  and  every  way  worthy  of  the  author  of  that  charming  work. 
Profound  in  its  philosophy,  rational  and  scriptural  in  doctrine,  irre- 
sistible in  argument,  felicitous  in  illustration,  elegant  in  diction, 
graceful  in  style,  and  dealing  with  some  of  the  deepest  problems  of 
human  life  and  destiny,  it  is  nevertheless  all  aglow  with  the  spirit  oi 
the  Divine  Master  —  with  the  tenderest  human  sympathy,  the  broadest 
catholicity,  the  sweetest  charity.  It  unfolds  with  great  clearness  and 
presents  with  singular  force  and  eloquence  the  vital  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  and  exhibits  a  rare  spiritual  insight,  and  a  varied  and  deep 
religious  experience,  on  the  part  of  its  author." 

From  the  "  Walt  ham  Free  Press." 
"  It  gives  us  unfeigned  jjleasure  to  come  into  possession  of  a  copy 
of  "  Sermons  and  Songs  of  the  Christian  Life,"  by  Rev.  Dr.  E.  H. 
Sears,  who  as  author  of  "  The  Heart  of  Christ,"  "  Regeneration," 
and  "  Foregleams  of  Immortality,"  has  earned  a  name  as  a  writer 
and  thinker  which  lends  to  any  work  from  his  pen  an  interest  not 
easily  described." 


2  NOTICES  BY   THE  PRESS. 

From  "  Zioti's  Herald." 
"  These  sermons  are  varied ;  all  presenting  the  substantial  truths 
of  the  Bible  in  a  fresh  and  original  form.     Some  are  very  sweet  and 
adapted  to  hours  of  meditation,  some  instructive  and  suggestive,  and 
some  very  impressive  and  solemn." 

Erom  the  "  Advance^^  Chicago. 
"  A  choice  volume   of  deep  spiritual   thought   and  warm-hearted 
Christian  sentiment." 

From  the  "  Boston  Post." 
"  Pleasing  in  style,  forcible  and  pertinent  in  treatment,  and  admi- 
rably adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  spiritually-minded  reader." 

From  the  "  Key  Stone." 
"  About  a  year  ago  we  noticed  in  these  columns,  "  Foregleams  and 
Foreshadows  of  Immortality,"  by  Dr.  Sears,  and  commended  it  as  one 
of  the  most  eloquent  and  thorough  expositions  of  that  deeply  interest- 
ing topic  The  volume  before  us,  by  the  same  author — "  Sermons 
and  Songs  of  the  Christian  Life"  —  is  distinguished  by  the  same 
reach  of  thought,  logical  power,  charity  of  expression,  and  genuine 
eloquence  that  characterized  his  "  Immortality." 

From  the  "  Liberal  Christian." 
"The  merits  of  this  book  are  so  great  that  one  is  tempted  to  extrav- 
agance in  praise  of  it.  It  is  scarcely  possible  that  in  our  time  any 
form  of  Christian  faith  which  includes  so  much  with  which  modern 
thought  has  broken,  will  again  be  spoken  and  sung  with  such  clear- 
ness and  sweetness.  There  appears  in  this  book  the  unconscious- 
ness which  criticism  has  well  nigh  driven  out,  the  true  mystic  prepos- 
session, which  is  essential  to  poetic  expression.  In  the  "Christmas 
Song  "  the  rhythm  of  the  verse  and  the  calmness  of  the  writer's  faith 
accord  not  less  than  in  "the  rhythmic  murmur"  of  "The  Silent 
Prayer."  The  one  treats  of  a  disputed  fact  in  history,  the  other  of  a 
universal  human  hope  ;  but  the  writer  no  more  doubts  the  one  than 
the  other,  and  therefore  both  flow  into  music  under  his  pen." 

From  the  "  Congrt-gationalist." 
"  The  Christian  public  will  heartily  welcome  a  new  volume  from 
Rev.  Dr.  Sears,  whose  'Heart  of  Christ'  has  already  endeared 
him  to  so  many  devout  readers.  .  .  .  The  uncommon  qualities  of 
these  discourses,  as  respects  not  only  their  elevated  thought  and 
beautiful  style,  but  their  strong  Evangelical  bias,  are  indicated  in  the 
ample  extracts  which  will  be  found  grouped  together  on  the  second 
page  of  this  paper." 


-.^  "■'  -^1  >'  v.;  i  ^d|^ 


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